Where We Stand
by christineexx
Summary: Before her laid two roads. Despite the fact that she was forging forward, either way would bring her back to her past. Both roads left her with a sinking feeling in her stomach; a feeling of pain and regret... - Not DarrenxSteve.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: Hey guys! I really shouldn't start a new story when I'm already so bad about typing up my other one, but screw it… This is my first Cirque FanFic, and I'm really nervous about how it's going to turn out, so I would really appreciate some feedback… I'm not quite sure what's going to go down in this story, where the characters will end up, or whether or not it'll be worth reading. But I would appreciate your input! (: This story kind of combines the storyline from the books and the movie, so bear with me… And the parts completely in italics are all flashbacks, in case that wasn't clear enough. So, uh, enjoy! (:**_

_Michaela rolled her eyes as Steve went on and on and on, glad she was in front of him so that he would not catch her bored expression. Sometimes he was just like one of those stupid toys that just keep going and going until you wind up chucking it at a wall because it won't shut off. However, she knew better than to interrupt him, so she waited until he was done with his latest vampire-obsessive rant to interject, "Steve, I honestly have no idea what half of the words you're using mean, and none of the names you're using mean a damn to me. No matter how hard you try, I know vampires are just fairy tales, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise."_

_He scowled at her; she was so freaking naïve! He never seemed to get through to her, no matter what he did or said. She was so… stubborn. "Mike, you're such a smart girl. You know what every single one of those words mean, and you should know better than to doubt the existence of the deadliest creatures alive. Why do you have to act like such a dumbass?"_

_"I wouldn't want you to feel out of place," she retorted before turning to face him. "You know how it is, Steve."_

_"But you have me and Darren now! Well… Darren's kind of a wimp. He'd never do anything. But you know I'd kill anyone who—"_

_"Steve!" she exclaimed, cutting him off. "I don't mind. Really. Everything… everything's fine now. I promise."_

_"I'm just saying, Mike. It's just the two of us. You don't have to play dumb with _me._"_

_She sighed and stopped walking backwards to give him her usual exasperated look that told him he would not ever win this battle and should just stop trying. "You know I can't, Steve."_

_"I'm beginning to think the whole 'dumbass' thing is becoming more than just an act," he said solemnly as he stared into her eyes._

_"Steve! Shut up. You know how it is for me, and how it was, and I can't—"_

_Her words were cut off by him pressing his lips to hers._

_It was the first kiss they'd shared._

* * *

><p>Michaela groaned as she rolled to the other side of her bed so she could smack her alarm clock. It took three blind flails of her hand, but she eventually hit the snooze button and her room went back to being silent. She stretched out a little before curling up in a ball like she usually did. It seemed like mere seconds before she heard the rings of her alarm clock again, signifying that five minutes had passed. She once again slammed it off, but then sat up in bed. After her eyes had adjusted to being open, she slowly dragged herself out of the warm comfort of her bed and walked out of her room to the bathroom. She'd always hated mornings, and recent events had made her loathe the start of each new day even more than she previously had. After all, why should <em>she <em>get to breathe while her best friend in the entire world— hell; her _only _friend in the entire world— was laying six feet underground, and her boyfriend… Well, she wasn't quite sure where the hell he had disappeared to. He was no doubt doing something better than spending eight hours of his day in a building full of meaningless tasks, mindless chatter, and a never-ending stream of pitying glances that were always being sent her way. After all, she was Michaela Freiland— formerly known as Mike or Mikey, but those nicknames had died right along with Darren and her relationship with Steve.

She glanced in the mirror at her short black hair and wondered what the hell she'd been thinking when she'd dyed and cut it. _You were thinking about how you lost the only two people you care about, _she reminded herself. _Just like always._

When she stepped into her shower, she was again left to think about the pair that had shown her what it meant to live. It was sad, really, how often her thoughts revolved around the two guys that had promised they'd never leave her. She couldn't really blame Darren— it wasn't his fault he'd fallen out his window and broken her neck, as much as her cynical mind like to make her think it was—, but she could come up with no excuse for Steve. After all, her boyfriend (her shell-shocked mind refused to think of Steve as an ex; not yet) had disappeared barely two weeks after Darren's funeral. Michaela had felt him slipping away ever since his own near-death experience, but she'd never imagined that he would just up and leave. When he'd survived the poisoning, she had taken it as a sign that they really _were _meant to be. He didn't die because he would keep his promise; he wouldn't abandon her like everybody else always did.

Of course, nothing ever worked out the way she expected it to. Darren had died, and Steve had left her. One right after the other; a double-whammy. She was so sick of everything. So sick of the pain. So sick of everyone fucking _leaving her!_

Above everything, though, she was sick of crying. She hated constantly fighting back tears, and how her throat would close up every time she thought about her friends… She was done with tears, done with the constant aches and wails of pain. So instead, she threw back her head and laughed like the psychopath she could feel herself becoming.

* * *

><p><em>Michaela was sitting on the hill near her school; staring straight ahead with what she hoped was a blank expression on her face. It was about a week after Steve had kissed her, and they hadn't spoken of it, much less kissed again. <em>It was probably just an accident, _she told herself. _He probably just had a momentary lack of judgment. _It was no big deal, and she knew she should stop freaking out about it— but then, she had never really dealt well with change._

_She was forcing the blank expression because she didn't want anybody to be able to tell how weighted she was by her fears of losing her two best friends. Her _only _friends. If they left her, she would go back to being the loser that she'd always been— except it would be even more miserable (if possible), because she would be lonelier. She would know what it felt like to be accepted and cared for, and she would crave it for the rest of her life. _

_"Mikey, what's wrong?" Darren asked, bringing her back to reality. She glanced at him and responded, "Nothing."_

_He plopped down next to her and draped his arm around her shoulders comfortingly. He knew she was upset, because she always overdid the casualty of her facial expressions when she was trying to hide something. "C'mon, Mikey. You know you can trust me."_

_She smiled a melancholy smile and responded, "It's nothing, Darren. Really. Just some stupid crap."_

_"So then why can't you tell me?"_

_She laid her chin on her knees and looked away from him, a faint, melancholy smile on her lips. "You'll just think I'm—" She stopped mid-sentence and blinked rapidly when a large flash went off. She looked up and saw that Steve had just taken a picture of himself. He was beginning to stride over, and he tossed the camera on Darren's lap before sitting down on the other side of Michaela._

_"What's our favorite female friend stressin' about?" he asked conversationally._

_"Nothing new. Just the usual," she said honestly, deciding to let them each come to their own conclusions. Before they could press her any further, she faked a grin and changed the subject by reaching over and picking up the camera from Darren's lap. "So, we've taken about eight-thousand pictures so far. When are we actually going to look at them?"_

_"We can hook the camera up to my television and view 'em all as a slideshow on Friday," Steve offered._

_Darren laughed. "Oh, god... this could be bad."_

_"Well, Dare, we should be fine— that is, unless you have pictures on there of yourself playing with your—"_

_"_STEVE!_" Michaela exclaimed, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence and make both she and Darren blush._

"_What?" Steve asked innocently. "It's not like it's anything we haven't all seen before." He saw the look on her face and exclaimed, "Don't even _try _to tell me that you're still a virgin." He began to laugh and looked at Darren. "Dare! Mike is a friggen _virgin!_"_

_Darren frowned a tad and responded, "So?"_

_Steve's laughter quickly faded. "Oh, god… Both of you? _Seriously?_ You're both… Oh, god."_

"_Like you aren't!" Michaela exclaimed defiantly._

"_Freshman year. Janitor's closet. Bridget," Steve responded smugly._

"_You're disgusting," Darren scoffed._

"_And _you're _a virgin! Steve responded. __He stood up, pointed to the two of them, and responded, "I'll leave you alone so you can fix that," before walking away._

"_PERVERT!" Michaela screeched, and threw a fistful of grass after him before dissolving into laughter._

* * *

><p>Darren was lying back in his hammock, just staring up at the ceiling. He let out a small sigh as he pondered his new life; it wasn't that he didn't love the Cirque and all the friends he made there; it was more the idea that he would never be able to go back to his old life or his friends or family. It had only been about a month or two, and he was already missing them all like crazy.<p>

Evra Vonn was standing near Darren, watching him mope. He couldn't take it for very long before he demanded, "Quit it. You're bumming _me _out."

Darren couldn't help but let out another sigh and apologized, "Sorry. It's just… I really miss my hometown. Don't get me wrong, I love the Cirque, but it isn't the same, y'know?"

"No. I've been in the business since birth, remember?"

Darren ignored Evra's vain attempt at humor and continued, "I just can't believe I'll never be able to see my family and friends again. Mom… Dad… Annie… Steve… M—" he cut himself off before saying Michaela's name. He hated thinking about her; although he'd known her for the least amount of time, leaving her hurt him more than anything. He and Steve had sworn to never leave her side. Michaela had had a hard time: she never had a single constant in her life. Everything was constantly being taken away from her. And then the moment she began to have faith in him, stop doubting his intentions, let down her guard… _bam. _He'd gone and faked his own death.

He knew he'd hurt all of his friends and family (hell; he'd had to listen to them say their final goodbyes, and if he'd had control of his body, he would've broken down crying right along with them,) and he knew Steve was aware of what had really become of him. But Michaela… he'd completely _shattered _her. She might still have Steve, but Darren knew she was heartbroken without him. It wasn't his ego making him assume things— it was more the fact that he'd heard her gut-wrenching sobs several nights in a row while he perched near her window. Each time, he'd felt the overwhelming desire to go in and comfort her; show her that there was no need to be upset because he was there. He would always be there. But each time, Mr. Crepsley showed up and yanked him away before he could do something stupid.

"'Mm' as in that Mike guy?" Seeing Darren's tortured, confused expression, Evra added, "You talk about him constantly in your sleep. It's kind of sketchy— I'm starting to think you might have a man-crush."

"Mikey is a _girl,_" Darren corrected. He felt a small prick behind his eyes but ignored it. He was proud of himself; that was the first time he'd ever dared to say her name without dissolving into tears.

Evra suddenly became _very _interested. "She hot?"

"I don't know, man. I never thought of her like that."

After a brief moment of consideration, Evra decided, "Lies. Do you have any pictures?"

Recalling his brief obsession with photography, Darren nodded. "Yeah… I have about a thousand saved on my—"

His words were cut off by Evra, who was already digging out Darren's camera from inside his drawer of stuff. He flipped through pictures for only a few moments before landing on a picture of Steve. Although he and his contorted facial expression were the main focus, it was impossible for your attention not to be drawn towards Darren and the girl his arm was around. The girl's knees were pulled into her chest, and her head lay on top of them. She was looking towards the camera, but not at it, as if she was unaware that there was a picture being taken. There was a small smile on her face, despite the fact that she looked like she wanted to cry. Darren glanced over Evra's shoulder at the picture, and his face instantly softened. "That one's my favorite… but if you flip back about three or four you'll get one more your speed."

Evra did as instructed and stared vigorously at a close-up of a girl. She had a long, angular face with high cheekbones and full lips. She had brown eyes so dark that they were almost black, but one was covered by her bangs, which were swept to the side. Her hair was platinum blonde with purple tips and blue and pink streaks. On anybody else, it would've been extremely odd— but somehow, this girl managed to pull it off. Evra finally forced himself to tear his eyes away— the girl wasn't the prettiest girl in the world, and very far from perfect, but there was something in her face that made it hard to look away from. "Huh."

"Yeah. She's… She's special."

"Well, I can why you'd be upset. I'd be upset if I had to leave that, too."

"_Her,_" Darren snapped. "Mikey is a _her._"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: Thank you to the, like… six people who read this so far, and special thanks to roxypony for reviewing(: Anyways, I put up a quote as my summary instead of the "I don't know jack shit" one that I had before. Not the best summary, but it's substantial, I suppose. So, uh, thanks for reading and as always, reviews are appreciated! (:**_

_Michaela strode purposefully into the emergency room, ignoring the fact that her insides were screaming, threatening to destroy her. She caught Darren's bloodshot eyes and he stood to greet her. She lost her cool and ran full-force towards him, jumping into his arms and wrapping hers around his neck. He held her in the air and spun her around slowly until the momentum ceased. He leaned forward to set her down, but when he pulled back she tethered him to the ground. He kept hugging her for a moment until she pulled back and studied his face. "Do we know what happened yet?"_

_"No," he lied, ignoring his little sister's accusing glares. "He was in my room, and I guess… I guess something stung him because… when I came back in he was… he was…"_

_"Darren," Michaela said sharply. He forced his eyes to meet hers, wincing at the yelling that what to come__ but received a blow much worse when she said softly, "This isn't your fault. It could've happened to anyone. Got it?"_

He_ felt the need to yell at _her_; tell her it was absolutely, one hundred percent his fault. He wanted her to know all about the Cirque Du Freak, all about how he heard Steve wanted to become a vampire, all about how he'd stolen the stupid spider that had bitten and probably killed Steve. It was all his fault. All of it. But instead of arguing with her, he managed a feeble, "Alright," and ignored how Annie turned her body away from him._

_Michaela sighed, wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her head against his chest. He hated the fact that he'd hurt Steve, and by doing so, he'd hurt Michaela and Mrs. Leonard and Annie and everyone else. Worst of all, nobody knew it was his fault. _If they knew, would they still be comforting me? Or would they be kicking my ass? _Darren wondered as he clutched to his best friend. He honestly wasn't sure which one would make him feel worse._

_He didn't even have time to wonder, because at that moment the nurse came out and said, "You can come see Mr. Leonard now…"_

* * *

><p>Steve barely refrained from letting out a small cry when Murlough's nails dug into the back of his head. He was no wimp, and far stronger than any human— but Murlough's sharpened nails hurt like a bitch. He could never get over that. He absolutely <em>hated <em>getting hit with the nails. He knew that it was a great offence, being as each of the ten nails on a vampaneze's hand was like a small dagger, but his pride refused to let him use his. He would rather use his fists. _Scratching _your enemies? Really? Steve was so above that.

"Is that really _necessary?_" Steve grumbled, putting his hand against the newest slice on the back of his head to stop the flow of blood. He was lucky that he had thick hair, or he'd wind up having bald patches.

"How else are you going to learn not to be an idiot if a genius like Murlough is not there to teach you, child?"

Steve rolled his eyes at his mentor's egotistical mindset. "There's a difference between teaching and scratching. You remind me of my fucking history teacher."

"_I _am your teacher now, child. And a suitable teacher; am I not? Learning from the best, you are, for the great Murlough is a genius. Very bright, I am! The brightest."

"There's also a difference between being bright and a retard," Steve muttered under his breath, but nothing escaped the ears of the vampaneze. Murlough had him pinned against the wall with his nails at Steve's throat, freshly filed into points. They were perfect for slicing, killing, stabbing, maiming... All of the ways Murlough could single-handedly kill him flashed through Steve's mind at that moment. Was Murlough really going to kill him so soon, before he'd even gotten his chance to rise to glory or kill Shan? Steve hissed in a pained breath as Murlough pressed against Steve's skin until there were little drops of blood underneath each of his fingers, then pulled his nails out of the puncture holes and licked them until the blood was polished off.

"You will respect the great Murlough," he ordered before disappearing around a corner.

Steve grimaced as he gently rubbed his hand against his bleeding neck. He was almost used to the constant pain and abuse— hell, he'd been getting beat up by adults his whole life—, but a hit from a mad vampaneze was about ten times worse than a hit from one of his many 'uncles', even _with_ his blood only being half human. _This guy's a raving lunatic…_

* * *

><p><em>"I'm thirsty," Darren decided as he, Michaela, and Steve all sat around a table at an amusement park.<em>

_"So go get a drink," Michaela advised._

_"Does anybody want to come with me?" Darren asked as he began to stand._

_"No," Steve responded dismissively. "Get us something, too."_

_"You're an-"_

_"-Ass?" Steve guessed. "Yeah, I've heard. Now, shoo."_

_Darren huffed as he turned to leave. Michaela watched Darren walk away to get the three of them drinks before turning to Steve to ask casually, "So, how's—"_

_Steve quickly cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. She thought about yanking away and smacking him, but to be honest, she'd been waiting for a second kiss ever since the first one last month. She kissed him back until Steve caught sight of Darren rounding the corner back to the table and pulled away from her, returning to his seat and nonchalantly taking a bite of a French fry. "That was quick," he commented when Darren set down two sodas._

"_Well, there was no line and they only had two cups left so they felt bad and gave me the drinks for free… I'd ask what you've been up to, but I wasn't gone long enough for anything eventful to happen."_

_Steve nodded in mock agreement, making Michaela blush. "Mike and I will share the second drink," he decided, and scooted next to her. He ignored the way her face got even redder and offered her the cup. She leaned over and took a sip from the straw before murmuring, "Thanks…"_

_Darren watched them for a moment with a cocked eyebrow before asking, "Is there something I should know about…?"_

"_Nah," Michaela managed to say without her voice showing too much of her emotion._

"_You don't think that my asking you out is something important enough to share with our best friend? Really, I'm hurt."_

"_You never asked me out," Michaela responded with wide eyes._

"_I just did."_

"_Um… yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I'd uh… I'd… yeah," she finally got out as she stumbled over her words. She'd been looking forward to this since she couldn't even remember when, but she hadn't imagined her smile would be _this _wide._

_Darren grinned as he watched his two best friends share a quick kiss. He'd known they'd liked each other for a while— they'd never told him directly, but Michaela had made it obvious enough that she was head-over-heals for their friendly neighborhood delinquent. Steve hadn't really shown that he was into her until the past week or two; but then, Steve never did. "That's great. Really great," Darren informed them genuinely._

_Steve responded by taking a sip of his soda and flashing one of his rare, non-predatory smiles._

* * *

><p>Michaela's eyes snapped up as Mr. Myers, the only teacher who hadn't been dancing around her and her feelings, repeated his question. "Michaela! Please explain the differences between the economy of northern and southern—"<p>

"Can you please, like… stop talking?" Michaela snapped. She didn't really have anything against Mr. Myers, but over the past month he'd gotten on her nerves more and more. He was generally annoying, and had replaced Mr. Dalton after his death— people around here seemed to be dropping like flies. First Darren… then Steve… and now Mr. Dalton. She'd never really liked him (nobody had), but it stilled royally pissed her off that someone could just waltz into a school full of traumatized students and expect them to be on tip-top behavior. Maybe it was just the circumstances, but she was not at _all _a fan of this guy. "Honestly, you're so annoying! I didn't answer the question because I don't know the answer. You _know _I don't know the answer! Repeating the question louder and slower and with over-exaggerated enunciation won't make the answer materialize out of thin air and suddenly pop into my head; it just makes you seem like an asshole with a speech impediment."

He waited for the gasping and laughter to die into an awkward silence before commanding, "Michaela Freiland, go to the office and meet with the principal. _Now!_"

"I hope he gives me a suspension," she decided to comment as she made her way out of the room. "I need a vacation."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this— I appreciate the feedback! This chapter contains another one of my sad attempts at darker writing, so I apologize for that(: There's a few f-bombs (as per usual), and there's a little bit of sexuality. :P In addition, we learn a little more about Michaela's past and her relationships with the other characters. Thank you all for your time and let me know what you think? (:**_

_"Shh. Mike. Calm down… it's alright. Really. Everything's fine."_

_Michaela rested her head on Steve's chest. She fought to quiet her sobs and stop the tears, but she honestly couldn't bring herself to care enough to force them to stop. Nothing, not even trying to be strong, meant anything right now. All that mattered was the fact that her only friend in the entire world was about to be put six feet underground. She wrapped her arms around Steve's waist and let out a long, shuddering breath. "I just… I can't…"_

_Steve loosened his rigid stance and put his anger past him; he could hide his rage at least for the moment. He sighed and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer into his body. "I know, babe."_

_"I can't even begin to… to think about… he's fucking _gone. _I don't know… I… I…"_

_Steve looked at the hole that Darren's grave would soon be lowered into and nodded. "Yeah. I know what you mean. It's hard to believe that he's really dead," he managed to respond monotonously. He was pissed off, but not enough to ignore Michaela's feelings. He knew that her fragile mind would not yet be able to comprehend what his was barely able to grasp: that Darren was alive. He was lying in his casket, probably laughing at them all. He would rise in a few hours, and he would roam the night as a vampire. It should have been Steve. Darren should have never stolen his place, and Steve would make damn sure that he lived to regret it._

_Michaela looked up at her boyfriend's face trustingly. "I'm sorry, baby… I'm being totally inconsiderate. How are _you_ doing, Steve? You knew him longer and you're just standing here being all stoic and… Well, are you alright?"_

_"I'm fine," he lied._

_"Your best friend died, and you honestly expect me to believe that you're fine?"_

_"I'm not upset. Really," he responded honestly._

_She frowned but decided that she shouldn't press the issue any further. He would talk to her when he was ready; he always did. _There's reason enough to pretend to be okay, _she told herself. _Do it for Steve. The only person in the entire world that you have left._ Instead of arguing with him, she got up on her toes and gently pressed her lips to his. "Can your awful, inconsiderate girlfriend ask you for a favor?"_

_He rolled his eyes at her failed attempt at humor. "Yeah, sure. Anything you need."_

_"Would you mind staying the night with me? Please?" When he raised his eyebrows, she whispered, "I really don't want to be alone…"_

_He involuntarily let out a small smile. "Yeah. Anything for you."_

_Recalling the fact that she wanted to be strong for him, she forced a smile onto her lips. "Are you trying to be nice, or do you just think you'll get lucky?" she joked, and once again lifted her head to meet his eyes._

_"Maybe a little bit of both," he admitted with one of his signature half-grins._

_"Well then… maybe you'll _get_ a little bit of both, hmm?" she responded, and raised her eyebrows suggestively._

_"Really?" He was shocked, and not only because of her sudden change in mood. He wasn't used to her actually wanting to have sex, and the fact that she would bring it up at their best friend's funeral made her behavior even odder. But, hell; if it got him laid, he wouldn't complain. She had been seriously lacking in that department—mainly because she kept ranting about 'morals' and refused to get in bed—, and most nights spent together were just spent sleeping._

_"No." She caught sight of his face and almost laughed at his expression. "Okay, maybe. We'll see. But only because you're being all adorable and supportive, alright?"_

_"Are you sure it isn't because you're sick of holding out on me?" he asked hopefully._

_"Mmm… No, I like holding out on you. That part's actually been pretty fun."_

_He frowned at her, and she gave him another small kiss before she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the area they'd chosen to sit near while they buried Darren. She wasn't exactly disgusted with herself for her behavior, but she knew she was being untrue to Steve. Michaela hated when she was the main focus of concern (which happened often), and she especially hated that Steve felt the need to put all of his emotions behind him so that he could deal with hers. It took all of her strength to refrain from crying when they buried Darren. But, hey; anything for Steve…_

* * *

><p>Michaela was standing by a dirt road with her arms crossed over her chest. She was leaning against a tree and squinting at distant lights that twinkled back at her mockingly. Before her laid the town next to the one she resided in, and behind her laid a darkly wooded forest. She didn't know what to do, which way to turn— and so she just stood there against the lone tree, trying to relish to stillness of the night. She tried to convince herself that the silence was a good sign, and that it was peaceful— but she had an overwhelming feeling that something was wrong. Her mind kept reminding her of the still before tornadoes; she tried to assure herself that it was just her cynic pessimism.<p>

When she heard the mindless chatter of men, she looked first to the right and then the left. She let out a small sigh when she saw a group of five drunken men. Her body went rigid when they began to stumble their way over towards her. They were only a few yards away when she heard one of them say, "There's someone against the tree."

"It's just a chick," a second man dismissed.

"_Alone?_" the third man rasped suggestively.

"At _night,_" the fourth man added.

The fifth remained silent, assessing Michaela before halting the group in front of her. He was obviously the leader— and the scummiest— of them all. He grinned after his short analysis and decided, "I'll be damned if we're gonna let _that _slide."

"You do realize I can hear you all just fine," Michaela decided to speak up bitterly.

"But nobody _else _will be able to hear _you._" He gave her a sinister grin and took a step closer to her.

"Your friends can," she pointed out.

"They don't mind. Right, guys?" Upon seeing their nods of agreement, he added, "You can stand guard while I have my way with this bitch."

"Damn straight, Johnny," one of them agreed.

Michaela glared at the inebriated Johnny with stone-cold eyes, refusing to let her screaming fear reveal itself. _Maybe if you act brave, they'll leave you alone, _she told herself uncertainly. She decided it was worth a try and responded with a simple, "Fuck off."

"Bitch got a temper," Johnny said appreciatively. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them back against the tree before leaning in about three inches away from her face and whispering nastily, "I like that."

Michaela began to screech as she struggled against his grip. She fought him for a little bit before kneeing his groin. He released her immediately, and she began to run away. She would've made it, too, if it weren't for his hoard of assholes. They grabbed her and shoved her back against the tree. When Johnny had recovered, he staggered to his feet and slapped her across the face. He went back to the position they were in before, with her being pinned against the tree and him glowering at her. "Don't you even bother _trying _to get away. This is happening, dollface, whether you like it or not."

Johnny's grip on her tightened, and she cried out with pain. He grinned sadistically and pressed his body against hers. Michaela could feel his lips pry at her unresponsive mouth. She let out a scream, but that was like an open invitation to Johnny. Tears rolled down her face and she whimpered pathetically as he kissed her. She closed her eyes as Johnny began to pull at her clothes, accepting her fate.

Just as soon as he'd managed to tear her shirt off, his grip suddenly ceased and his body was violently ripped away from hers. At the sudden lack of pressure, Michaela slumped to the ground and curled into a ball. She didn't know what was happening, but she didn't really care, either. She had a feeling that Johnny would be coming back to her, and so she completely shut out the world around her. She didn't even bother to open her eyes, for fear of what she would see. _Please end soon. Just kill me and get it over with. Please. I don't want to have to deal with this for the rest of my life…_

* * *

><p>Steve lifted his head from the last of the men he had sucked dry and let out a small, content sigh. He didn't care that he'd just killed five men— they all deserved it. <em>Assholes.<em> He left three bodies full of blood, knowing that Murlough would want them when he came to follow Steve's trail later. He wiped the blood from his face on one of the men's shirts, and then approached Michaela's shuddering body. He sighed and forced her into a sitting position, being as gentle as he possibly could because he didn't want to hurt her. His vampaneze strength often came out at random moments when he didn't expect it to— that was how he'd accidentally killed his mom's boyfriend. But he didn't care much about that, either; he had been an asshole as well. An asshole who didn't deserve to live.

Steve took his shirt off and put it over his (ex?)-girlfriend's head. She refused to lift her arms to put them through the holes, so he just yanked it down over her whole upper body. He scowled when he noticed that despite her arms being inside of it, the shirt was still loose over her; if he'd tried this before he'd left, it would have definitely been a snug fit. He cupped her face and lifted her chin up and to the right, examining her injuries. She would have a bruise on her cheek. He knew it was no big deal and definitely nothing he should care about— it still pissed him off, though. He was glad he'd killed the little bitch who had dared to do this to her. He would gladly murder anybody who ever hurt her. Ever. _Then again— that's all you are nowadays, _he reminded himself bitterly. _A murderer._

He waited for a moment before deciding that she wouldn't open her eyes, stop crying, or uncurl from her fetal position. So instead of sitting there with her, he lifted her into his arms and began to walk over to her house. He would have run to their destination, but he wanted to hold her as long as he could and opted for the slower pace of walking. As much as he hated to think so, he knew that he'd missed her a hell of a lot more than he should have. He shouldn't have missed her at all, and he knew that. He should have forgotten about her immediately after he'd been blooded—or, better yet, the day he'd chosen to run away in search of someone willing to turn him. He'd achieved his dreams, and he'd become what he'd always wanted. The vampaneze didn't have times for feelings other than hate, humans other than who they fed on, or regret other than not having their Vampaneze Lord yet. He would fix that, though. He had every intention of laying in that fire coffin and showing his people what destiny had in store for them. He planned out what he would do as lord of the vampaneze as he turned the corner onto Michaela's street.

Michaela had fallen asleep on the way over to her house, but as soon as Steve laid her down on her bed, her eyes flashed open. She sat up and turned on a light before looking at her shirtless boyfriend. _"Steve?" _she whispered.

"Yo," he managed, ignoring the way his throat tightened when he looked at her.

"What are you… why are you…"

"There were guys being assholes. I brought you home," he stated simply. He didn't want to go into what had happened; it had disgusted him. He knew that if he tried to talk about it he would wind up getting pissed off and accidentally hurting her in his frenzy of rage.

"You…" He saw a tortured look of remembrance on her face, but when she lifted her head and their eyes met she suddenly brightened. "You saved me."

"Um… yeah, I guess…"

"You came back. You came back and… and saved me."

"I wouldn't go that far…" he mumbled. He couldn't do this. He couldn't get her hopes up; couldn't let her get attached again…

She looked at him and frowned. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"What?" he asked in shock. He hadn't been expecting that reaction at _all._

"I'm dreaming again. I can tell. After all, you left me. Why would you come back now? And, I mean, you _saved me. _Stereotypical teenage fantasy. You were never that cliché in real life. It's just my stupid mind playing tricks on me…"

"Actually, Mikey, I'm here. I'm real. And I _did _save you, if that's what you want to call it. I would call it more punching out some assholes that really deserved it, but… whatever floats your boat, kiddo."

She slowly got to her feet and looked him over. "So… you're _real,_" she clarified slowly.

"Real as I've ever been."

She stared into his eyes, and he was glad that it was too dark for her to notice that his eyes had changed colors since they'd last been together. Michaela studied him before she leaned in slowly, pausing when her lips were about an inch away from his. "This is usually where I wake up," she whispered.

He looked down at her, feeling the tension between them. He knew that if he was smart he would run away right now. However, he'd never been known for his intelligence— he was frequently referred to as an _idiot savant_. He closed the space between their lips by grabbing her face and pulling her closer to his body. Their kiss only lasted for a few seconds, but it would have been so much longer and progressed so much further if he hadn't pulled away. He cursed himself for his stupidity; he'd known that was a dumb idea! He was only going to get himself more attached, and make it harder for them both to say goodbye…

He looked at her trusting face and turned away in shame. He forced out a muttered, "I, uh, have to go…"

"You have to leave?" she asked, her face falling. "Again?"

"Yeah," he coughed out. He couldn't succumb to her wills. He couldn't let himself…

"For… for how long?"

"Probably forever." He had to be cold. He had to tell the truth. He had to let her know that there was no hope, before he did something stupid like change her. He instantly brightened at the idea—he could _change her! _Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before? Then they'd be together forever!

He bit his lip as his momentary joy was replaced by scorn. He couldn't do that—not only was he still only a half-vampaneze, but he would never hurt her like that. He scowled at himself for even thinking the thought. He just needed to get her out of his head.

"Can you at least stay the night?" she asked. When she saw the incoming refusal in his eyes, she added, "Please?"

He was all set to deny her request when he saw the look in her eyes; the one that was pleading him to consider it. _One night can't hurt anyone… can it? _he wondered. He knew the answer: yes. It would kill them both. But he wanted to stay, so bad. He sat down on the bed and began slowly, "Listen, Mike—"

"I know," she said softly. "I know you're going to leave and even if I do ever see you again, it won't matter because we can't be together. Whatever's different about you—don't even bother trying to lie to me, because I know something's changed— makes it impossible for you to be with me. Right?" He nodded slowly, and she went on, "So I know things will never change between us. You'll move on with your life, and probably get more scars." She pointed to his scar-covered upper-body and added, "I don't even want to know how you got them. I'll probably start crying. But, listen… I don't mind that you don't care about me or love me anymore. I get it. I just… I want you to stay anyway. I know it's fucked up, but I really want you to stay, despite everything. Can you? Please?"

He choked on his words, not sure what to say. She had misinterpreted him so badly! He cared for her, and he loved her, and… She was right. They could never be together. His changes made it impossible to even hope for a future. He paused before deciding on a simple, "Sure, Mike. Anything for you."

"Thanks," she whispered softly. She sat still for a moment and memorized his face—his new, oh-so-different face— before she crawled into the bed and turned to her left side, just like always. Steve got in bed and lay right behind her, draping his arm over her waist and gently pulling her in towards his body so that her back rested against his stomach. Their breathing became synchronized, and Michaela fell asleep almost instantly, feeling safe in his arms. Steve stayed awake throughout the whole night, watching her peaceful slumber in awe.

Just like always.

* * *

><p>Darren frowned as Mr. Crepsley lectured him about their upcoming journey to wherever the hell it was. Crepsley wouldn't let him know where they were going, but that wasn't what was wearing on Darren's nerves at the moment. What was ticking him off right now was how obnoxious Mr. Crepsley's speech was, being as he never stuttered or fumbled while he talked. It made Darren feel like a rambling moron every time he opened his mouth. When he saw the Crepsley had shut his mouth, Darren let out a yawn.<p>

"I am not kidding with you, Darren. There are many dangers and we must prepare you for each one, as I am responsible for your actions and will not tolerate any shameful behavior."

"Mr. Crepsley. Just shut it, alright? I'm really not in the mood for—"

Crepsley raised his hand as if to backhand-slap his assistant. Darren took a quick step away from him, and he found himself with his back against a wall. "You shall not disrespect me. I am your master, and you shall treat me as such. There will be dire consequences for misbehavior, do you understand?"

"Sorry," Darren managed to gasp out. He knew Crepsley could do some serious damage if he wanted to.

"Your apology has been accepted," Mr. Crepsley responded curtly, and retreated from Darren's body. He watched the boy take a breath of relief before adding, "However, no more outbursts shall be tolerated. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, Crepsley."

"_Mister _Crepsley," he corrected with a tone of authority that Darren couldn't help but be even further annoyed by.

Darren rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes, _Mr. _Crepsley."

Mr. Crepsley nodded and sat back on his coffin. "Now— what has you feeling troubled?"

"It's just…" Darren hesitated, not being too keen on the idea of discussing feelings with his new mentor. However, there was nobody else he could talk to about his issues. There was always Evra, but Darren felt guilty weighing down his lighthearted friend with his sorrows. Crepsley was a better option than his other candidates, so he decided to go on. "Well, I just kind of really miss my home. My friends and my family, y'know? And I know you warned me about that, so I had braced myself for that. But I wasn't expecting to feel so… guilty. I wasn't prepared for it. I feel like I abandoned them, almost."

Mr. Crepsley considered this before nodding again. "I recall this experience. It is quite normal to feel badly about leaving— however, you should not. Had you stayed, you would have wound up killing them all. They are much better off without you."

Darren sighed. "Yeah, but I still feel like scum for leaving them all by themselves."

"You may feel this way, but they are not alone, Darren. They have other people to depend upon than just you."

"Not _all _of them," Darren argued.

Crepsley studied Darren's expression before deciding that it would be safe to ask, "You are speaking of your friend Michaela, are you not?"

Darren's face went white. "How… how do you know about Mikey?"

"You mention her often in her sleep. Additionally— she spent the night at your residence once or twice while Madame Octa was in your possession, did she not?"

"Um… yeah," he said uncomfortably. "How did you—"

"I had my eye on you and my spider. Do you not remember? That is how I became intrigued in your existence and decided I wanted you as my assistant." He paused before continuing, "I found it quite interesting that you allowed her to take to the bed while you slept on the floor. I recall following her home that morning— I take it your parents did not know she was there, for she left while you were still asleep at approximately four o' clock in the morning. She arrived at what I presumed to be her own home before the sun had risen, but there was a rather loud argument and she left almost immediately following. She made her way over to the cretin known as Steve's home, but she stopped once she reached his property and left. She wandered for a while before growing tired and making herself a resting area inside of an abandoned construction site."

"And then what happened?" Darren asked with eager curiosity, noting the distant expression on his mentor's face. "Did you leave her, or what?"

"I struck up a conversation with her. She is quite interesting. I was quite taken aback by her initial unpleasantness, but she eventually grew to appreciate my company and we talked through the morning."

Darren's jaw dropped. He wondered why Michaela had never mentioned any of this— from sleeping in a construction site to arguing with her mom (or maybe it was her older brother) to meeting a fire-headed stranger in the dark. Wondering what else Michaela had kept from him, he hesitated before curiosity got the best of him and wondered aloud, "What did you talk about?"

"We discussed a multitude of topics. I had wished to find out information on you, but she refused to comply. She would not reveal any information pertaining to or regarding you."

"Why not?"

"She refused. I asked about you, but she denied knowledge of your existence. I informed her that I was aware of your friendship, but she would hear none of it. She refused to admit that she knew anything about you. She is a loyal friend, that one."

"I know," Darren said with a frown. "She had two people in the entire world, and I up and left her. I am _such _a jackass."

"She did not have others?"

"No. Her dad died when she was ten, and her mom was always either drunk, in jail, or out with one of her 'uncles'_. _Her older brother left the family when he was, like, sixteen— he comes around every once in a while, but they aren't on good terms. Steve and I were her only friends, and I…" Darren felt his eyes mist up, but forced himself to be strong. He didn't want Crepsley to see him break down.

"Ah, yes— Steve Leonard. I wonder how the beast is faring."

Darren frowned, recalling how his best friend had threatened his life at the cemetery after his un-burial. "I hope that he's doing alright… He has Mikey to keep him safe, at least. She would never let him do anything stupid. She'd keep him sane."

"If she has her cretin with her, she cannot be too alone, can she?" Crepsley pointed out. "They can seek solace in each other. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about."

"Yeah, I guess," Darren decided uncertainly.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: This took a little longer than expected to get posted, so sorry about that; I don't have internet at my dad's place so I couldn't put it up. The fourth chapter should be up either tonight or tomorrow, so there's gonna be a little less of a wait for that(:**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: Helloo(: Just a warning, I'm changing the story line a little bit. Instead of meeting Murlough in the city, the vampires find him elsewhere first and **_**then **_**follow him there. In addition, Debbie Hemlock won't come into play until a little later in the story. Thanks for reading and please review? :D**_

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><p>Michaela opened her eyes wearily. She lifted her head slowly as memories of the night she'd had hit her like a ton of bricks. She looked behind her to see if Steve was still there—but, as she'd assumed, he was not. What she <em>hadn't <em>expected was to see a folded-up piece of paper in his place. She forced herself into a sitting position and picked up the note, frowning as she read the front. _To Michaela _was scrawled on the front in Steve's crude handwriting. She almost burst into tears right then and there— he never called her Michaela, unless he was really pissed at her. It was his way of saying that he was detached; that he didn't want to deal with her. She opened it to find only one word:

_Sorry._

She sighed and tossed the note back to where she'd found it. She didn't know whether to be happy that she had seen him or devastated that she finally knew that it was really and truly over between the two of them. Either way, she knew that she wouldn't get over him for a long, long time. She was just about to curl up in a ball and cry about it when she heard a knock at her door. She scowled and walked down the stairs to answer it—it was probably just her mom, returning like she occasionally did and having lost her key again. She opened it and frowned when she saw a man she had never met before. He was tall, with stringy black hair and a disgustingly marred face. His eyes were wide and full of hate, and his teeth all ended in sharp points. He was scary, to say the least. "Can I help you?" she asked hesitantly. She could tell just by looking at him that he wasn't one of her 'uncles'; her mother had better taste than this man.

He grinned an evil grin before planting a foot over the doorstep. "I do believe so."

Her heart thudded in her ears as she tried to slam the door shut, but he easily caught it in his hand and forced it open. "Good try— you are clever. Clever child. But not clever like Murlough. Because Murlough knows best."

* * *

><p>Steve scowled as he watched the news from an empty house on the outskirts of a nearby town. He couldn't help but perk up a bit when the reporter told of five drunken men being found in a car that had driven off a cliff with all bodies having been drained of blood—so Murlough had come, drank his fill, and cleaned up the mess. He was always good like that. Steve sighed after the story on his and his mentor's crimes was over, because he wasn't really interested in anything else. He didn't care about news or politics or weather. All he cared about was his night with Michaela. He missed her already. He knew he shouldn't have bothered helping her, and he definitely shouldn't have kissed her. He sure as hell shouldn't have stayed the night. He knew he had been smart about leaving as early as he had, though; if he'd stayed to watch her wake up, he knew he wouldn't have ever left. He'd wanted to say so much more in his goodbye note, but he didn't know how to put it all into words. His mind went blank the moment there was a pen in his hand, and so he wrote down the one word that just kept repeating in his mind: <em>.<em>

Steve frowned despite himself—maybe he should go check up on her? He forced himself to disregard that thought immediately. She was fine. Michaela would be better off without him. It would just hurt them both even more if he came back again. After all, it was hard enough to leave the first (and second) times. How would he manage to do it a third time?

He put his fist through the wall next to him— he was being stupid, and he knew it. He just needed to forget about her, and he knew just the way to do it. He needed to drink. He would be fine after he got some fresh blood in his system. He knew that he needed to abandon the human part of him and embrace his new, immortal side. He needed to be who he knew his destiny would lead him to be; the leader his people had been looking for for years ever since they got wind of Mr. Tiny's prophecy.

He would need to abandon all emotional ties if he was to be the Vampaneze Lord.

* * *

><p>As Darren followed Mr. Crepsley through the streets, they became growingly familiar. The scenery went from big-city factories to beautiful landscapes. He frowned at each step; he felt an exhilarating sense of déjà vu with each one he took. He felt like he had trekked this hike before, but he couldn't quite place when or why. It wasn't until they scaled the gates of a rather large cemetery and stepped inside when he felt another wave of the overwhelming feeling that he had been there before wash over him. This time, it was intensified almost tenfold. He recognized the area, but he didn't know how…<p>

Despite his master's protests, Darren went ahead of him and walked his way forward, letting his feet take him wherever they happened to take him. He made turn after turn after turn as he wound his way around gravestones and tombs, ignoring the path that was laid out for walkers-by and just going with his gut. When he came to a stop, Mr. Crepsley grabbed his arm and violently pulled him back. "Darren. Come."

Darren ripped his arm out of Crepsley's grasp and responded with a husky, "Let go of me!" before turning to face whatever it was he had come to see. He knew that it would be right before him.

He gasped aloud when he saw his name staring back at him: _Darren Shan. _He was at his own tombstone! He looked at Mr. Crepsley and demanded shakily, "Why are we here." When he didn't respond, Darren boomed, _"Tell me why!"_

"We need to…" His voice faltered, which shocked Darren beyond belief. When did Crepsley ever show any sign of emotion? The idea that he was overwhelmed didn't exactly console Darren's fears. The fire-headed mentor paused before looking at his assistant and continuing, "We are here because we are following the trail of a psychopath, Darren. There is a mad vampaneze on the loose, and he has been terrorizing towns near and far for much too long. Normally I would not take an interest in the acts of their kind, but he has taken the life of one of my dear friends. I have been tracking him in secret ever since, and when he approached your hometown…"

"He's in my town?" Darren screeched. "Killing _my _people?"

"There have been five deaths so far," Mr. Crepsley said solemnly.

"But… what do _you _care?" Darren asked slowly, confusion and fear taking over his anger. "It's my home, not yours."

"Because, Darren. Like it or not, you are my assistant, companion, and what I consider to be a friend. You may not feel the same, but I have grown to like and enjoy your company. Besides, even if I did not care for you, throughout the duration of my stay I happen to have made a friend or two that I would enjoy keeping alive."

Realization dawned on the young boy and he said aloud, "Michaela." It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

"I had assumed you would feel the same way when it came to her safety, would you not?" He caught Darren's nod of approval and responded, "So be it."

"What do we have to do?" he asked bravely, all fear forgotten. He didn't care what it was. To help Michaela, he'd willingly jump into an active volcano. To him, it didn't matter what he had to do; he would do anything to keep her safe. For her, it was all worth it.

"Now," Mr. Crepsley said, "You sleep."

Darren stared at the man incredulously. Had he lost his _mind? _"Do you honestly expect me to _sleep _at a time like this?"

"Indeed. You will be of no service to me if you are exhausted come tomorrow morning."

"What about _you?_" he challenged. "What're _you _gonna be doing?"

"I shall be tracking the vampaneze, of course," Mr. Crepsley responded, wondering if his assistant had taken an especially hard blow to the head lately. He wasn't usually this clueless.

"Why can't I help?" Darren whined instantly. He didn't mean it to come out so childishly, but he didn't care much, either. It wasn't fair that Crepsley expected him to stay while he went after _his _friend!

"I shall be of no use during the day. We shall alternate shifts, with you searching during the light hours and me searching at night while it is dark."

"But—"

"I will wake you if I find anything. I expect the same from you. Are we understood?"

Darren let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Fine," he muttered, solely to please his master.

Crepsley gazed at his assistant warily. He could see the deceitful look in the child's eyes and knew that the moment he turned his back, the boy would be running off to do as he pleased. Crepsley had a feeling he knew what that was, so after careful consideration, he informed his assistant: "I shall visit the girl's residence first thing tonight, and shall go there as soon as we depart from the cemetery. You may accompany me for that. However, the very moment you have seen that she is safe, you are to make your way over to the large willow tree on the outskirts of the cemetery and retire for the night; do you understand?"

Darren nodded eagerly. He didn't care about some stupid vampaneze; he only cared that they didn't kill Michaela and Steve and his family and his friends and…

_Huh,_ Darren decided after a moment. He frowned— actually, he _did _care that there was a mentally unbalanced serial killer loose in his town. He cared a _lot. _Suddenly, he didn't feel the urge to _only _check up on Michaela—he wanted to actually run around town like a lost idiot and find the asshole who dared to hurt his home. But his top priority was checking on Michaela. She wasn't the most likely target for the vampaneze or anything, but she _was _the most likely out of anybody he knew to have done something stupid. He had to make sure that she wasn't sick, drinking, smoking, or doing anything that could possibly do harm to her. He needed to see that she was still… living. Not alive—he had a feeling she wouldn't do anything that drastic—but _living. _He knew that she hadn't been before she met him, but he hoped that she had continued to do so even in his absence.

Darren climbed on Mr. Crepsley's back to speed the process of moving along. The older vampire was much stronger and faster than his assistant. Normally, Mr. Crepsley would have been able to deal with going at a half-vampire's pace— but Darren's habit of _not _drinking blood had him going almost as slow as a human. That was far beyond the old vampire's patience level, so he flitted with the child on his back and climbed up Michaela's wall before setting Darren down on her wrap-around balcony. Darren walked from their side of it to where he knew Michaela's window was and glanced in.

Darren sighed happily when he saw that she was asleep, just like she should be at the late hour. However, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of something_—_he wasn't sure quite what emotion it was, but he knew it was unpleasant— when he noticed that she was in Steve's arms. It was the first time he'd ever seen them actually acting like the happy couple they'd previously been since his and Steve's night at the Cirque. He knew he should be happy that they were together again, but he couldn't help but kind of… _sick, _he guessed he could call it, at the idea. He banished that feeling from his mind by reminding himself that as long as she was with Steve, she would be safe. There was no chance in hell that Steve would let her get hurt. Still, there was a sinking feeling in his stomach as he walked back to Crepsley and grumbled, "She has company."

"She—" Mr. Crepsley was gone and back within ten seconds, his concern for her safety replaced with a bemused disgust. "Ah. _That _kind of company… I would have thought that a girl as bright as her would have a taste far too refined for her to be taken with Mr. Leonard."

Darren studied the expression on his mentor's face before evaluating, "So… basically, you're jealous."

"Jealous of a teenager and his sad excuse of an attempt at romance? _Please,_" Mr. Crepsley scoffed.

Darren's sides shook as the ice inside of his chest melted away and he let out a laugh at the mercy of Mr. Crepsley. "I can_not _believe that you have the hots for Mikey!"

"She is but a child," he snapped. "She is a kind young woman, and I am very much fond of her. That much is true. However, I do not in any way wish to court a mere _child." _

"You're in love with a seventeen-year-old girl that you've met only once in your life, despite being… old," Darren clarified. "How old _are _you, anyway? Two hundred? Three hundred?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

Much to Darren's amusement, Crepsley's face reddened to be almost the same shade as his hair as he grumbled an angry, "I will allow you to believe whatever you may wish, despite how incorrect your childish assumptions may be. Now, as much as I would enjoy to continue bickering with you on whether or not you think I have feelings for one of your childhood friends, it is time for you to uphold your side of the bargain and leave me be."

A grin spread across Darren's face as he responded, "You're just mad 'cause you know you like her."

Crepsley's face darkened as he threatened, "Child, if you do not cease your taunting, I shall leave you up here with no means of reaching the ground but to _jump. _And I assure you that I will _not _be waiting with open arms."

"No need to get so snippy, Cupid!" Darren exclaimed sarcastically as he mounted the man's back. A sudden wave of exhaustion rolled over him. He couldn't wait to be able to sleep and just get this day over with.

* * *

><p>Michaela shook with fear while Murlough walked around her constricted body condescendingly. She had a feeling that whatever he had in store for her would be a hell of a lot worse than what Johnny and his friend would have been capable of. "Young blood. Fresh blood," he purred after stabbing her shoulder quickly with his nail and licking it clean. He circled around this sad excuse of a teenage girl and couldn't help but wonder why Steve had left her alive. Murlough knew that Steve would not be too fond of the decision, but he wouldn't make the same mistake. "Murlough is very clever. He is the smartest man in history, he is—written history or otherwise. A genius, Murlough is! Number one! Never a bad idea from this clever head. And clever Murlough thinks—"<p>

The doorbell rang, cutting off Murlough's long rant in a series of speeches about how intellectual he thought he was. He let out a growl and considered his options before cutting through the ropes binding Michaela to her chair. "Murlough's plan must wait. His genius plan! I can see you waiting to hear it. Very anxious to hear it, are you? Yes! But you shall go. Open the door, you will!"

She wobbled to the door on tired, uncirculated legs and pulled it open, managing a weak "Can I help you?" when she saw it was two cops.

The taller of the two flashed his badge. "Yes, I'm Officer Harkins… are you Michaela Freiland?"

"Yeah," she managed to murmur uncertainly. She lifted her head to meet his gaze and said in a louder voice, "What's… what is it?"

"We found five bodies inside of a truck at the bottom of a cliff… they appear to have driven off in a drunken stupor. Do you happen to know anything about that?"

Michaela frowned, unsure of how this information pertained to her. "Why would I have _any_ idea what you're talking about?"

"Well, it was five men, ranging from in their twenties to thirties… heavily intoxicated. All but one was blonde." When Harkins caught the look of confusion on Michaela's face, he sighed. "Listen, Ms. Freiland. We found samples of your DNA all over one of the men— Jonathan Ambarti?"

The color immediately drained from Michaela's face as she gasped aloud. Her hand flew to her mouth and she managed to leak out a weak, "Johnny."

"You knew him?" the officer asked, even though he already had proof of that. "How?"

Trembling, she forced out a stuttered, "No. I was by the dirt road near the cemetery… leaning against that big weeping willow tree… and he and his friends came along… and he… they tried to…" Her eyes met the officer's and she managed a weak, "Well… y'know."

"It would be much easier if you just said it. We cannot just infer your meaning—"

"Rape," Michaela said loudly. Her voice lowered as she repeated quietly, "They tried to rape me."

The shorter cop who had been silent until that moment asked, "May we come in?"

"I don't think—" she began to stammer.

"What's the problem, miss?" Officer Harkins inquired as he stepped over the threshold. His partner quickly followed him into the house.

Both bodies hit the floor before the door had even shut behind them.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: So… thoughts? They'd be appreciated. This is the first thing that I've posted that I haven't had it all completely written out and finished before putting it up, so I'm kind of worried about how this is going to turn out. I would really like (and desperately need) feedback! Thank you so much(:**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: I'm sorry if this chapter is a little to short for you… I've been having a major case of writer's block lately, so I'm just shoving my way through it and hoping for the best. In this chapter I was mainly focusing on developing character's personalities and their relationships with the other characters, so any feedback you can give me on that would be very much appreciated(: Just a warning, though, Mr. Leonard is turning into quite the little slut, so there's going to be a little bit of sexuality in this chapter. It's nothing compared to most stuff on here, so you probably won't mind… I just thought I should warn you(:**_

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><p>Steve stepped away from the car he had 'borrowed' from the man he'd killed last night, grinning as he did so. He was finally eighteen today (an entire year older than the friends he'd left behind, who were going to be turning seventeen later that year), and he was definitely planning to live it up. He took the last drag he was going to get out of his first legal cigarette and threw it to the ground, digging his heel into it to put it out before striding into a bar. He was fully prepared to gorge himself; his fake ID rested with his wallet inside of his back pocket. However, all thoughts of alcohol banished from his mind when he gazed around and saw that the place was filled more than its fair share of women. He approached the female that was the closest to him and purred, "Hello."<p>

She spun around to face him, beer in hand. She squinted at him as she his face for a moment before asking skeptically, "What— no cheesy pick-up line?"

"Nah," he responded simply. He knew that his detached responses always drove girls crazy, and this girl was _definitely _one that he wanted to want him.

Her blue eyes bore holes in his body as she raked her eyes over it. She nodded as if to say that he met her standards before she asked, "Are you just here to get me in the sack?"

He paused momentarily, not knowing whether he should admit to his intentions or not. He debated internally before deciding to go it straight. "Yup."

She nodded slowly as she processed that. He was getting ready for her to slap him and to have to move on to the next girl before she inquired, "Your car or mine?"

"Yours," he responded instantly.

She nodded again as a sly smile speared on her face. A sudden sense of eagerness lit her eyes on fire and she grabbed his wrist, dragging him over to the parking lot.

* * *

><p>Michaela hugged her knees to her chest as she stared at her open door. She was safe. She was really, truly safe. He was gone. Murlough… the dead bodies… the police officers… all gone. Even her savior had left. He was gone before the sun had risen, and now that the sun was setting and she hadn't moved an inch, she had a feeling that he wouldn't be back. The fact that he wasn't still with her turned her relief into fear—without his being there, what would stop Murlough from coming back?<p>

Almost the moment that thought had passed through her mind, a man appeared before her. From where her eyes shoot downward, the tail of his flowing cape filled her vision. Her eyes left the floor and trailed up his body until they found his scarred face, which was topped off by a short tuft of orange hair. A lump formed in her throat and she barely managed to whisper, "Larten."

He smiled softly at the broken girl that sat before him. "I take it that you have not forgotten me?"

She shook her head fiercely. "No, of course not! I could never forget…" Her sentence trailed off when she realized that she was incapable of finding words to describe their time together.

"I am glad, child. I have thought of you time and time again since the last time we met."

"That's kind of sketchy." Michaela let out a grin to let him know that she was kidding before she asked, "How did you… how did you know? That he was here, I mean?"

Larten Crepsley leaned back against the wall of her bedroom and debated what he could say without giving too much away about himself. "I have been tracking that… _man_ for quite a while. He killed one of my dear friends, and although I have tried to stop him, he has been slipping through my fingers ever since that day. When I learned that he was coming here, I could not help but think of you and your safety… I vowed to put an end to his tyranny here."

"Larten… I'm so sorry," she whispered softly. A small smile danced across her lips as she added on a much brighter note, "Thank you, though. You always seem to be saving me."

"You have more than returned the favor," he informed her solemnly.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I don't remember having done anything for you. The score is two-zero, with me having done _nada._"

"Michaela… I do not know if you are aware of this, but I am not exactly young."

Michaela let out a grin. "I couldn't help but notice."

He gave her a scrutinizing glare before he went on, "My point being that I have lived for many years. Nobody has made me feel the way that you do for quite a while. Michaela, we have met but twice in our lives, and I feel more strongly for you than almost anybody else that I know now or have known in my time. I traveled over three hundred miles just to see if you were safe! I have never known love as strong as this one before. Michaela… you are without a doubt one of my closest and dearest friends. I greatly appreciate your company, and the feelings you give me make up for any repercussions that your actions may bring."

Michaela just stared at him, awestruck. She had no idea how to respond to that. Instead of saying something stupid and ruining the moment like she knew she would have if she'd decided to open her mouth, Michaela brought herself to her feet and flung herself into Larten's arms. "Larten… I love you. Thank you so much for saving me. I just… I… I love you," she responded simply when all other words failed her.

Larten let out a booming laugh as he wrapped his arms around the girl he considered to be like his daughter. "I love you as well, Michaela." He pulled out of her tight embrace and directed a bony, sharp-pointed finger towards her bed. "Get some sleep, child. I shall see you at a later time."

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><p>Steve looked down at the blonde girl's dead body, which was lying under him. He studied her unclothed figure and let out a small growl when he saw no life-threatening marks on her. <em>Third one this week, <em>he thought to himself. She was the third random girl he'd picked up at a bar. The third girl he'd accidentally killed. The third girl whose body he sucked dry of blood and left in their car.

He scowled when he gave the girl another look-over and still couldn't find what he'd done to end her life. He had no idea how he'd killed the second one either, and this girl looked like she was going to be another mystery. He knew that it had to have been sometime after the sex, because her screams of pleasure had never melted into those of pain. He'd heard enough of both to tell the difference.

He ran his tongue over the sharp points he called his teeth and considered his options. He knew how he'd killed the first girl—he'd been kissing his way down her neck and had accidentally torn through her jugular. Sure, she would've died even if he hadn't drunk her, but that wasn't the issue. The problem was that once he'd gotten a taste of the blood, he couldn't stop. That was how it always happened— he got a small taste of blood and slipped into a kind of trance. Everything would become fuzzy and then all of a sudden, he'd be standing above a dead body.

He flipped the girl over and studied her backside before scowling. She had absolutely nothing physically wrong with her other than the various bruises that all of his 'partners' received in the heat of the moment when he forgot to control his strength. He flipped the girl (Cassidy, he thought she had said her name was) over to the front again and frowned when he saw her small 'O' of a mouth. An idea hit him and he pulled her chin down to open her mouth wider. He peered inside and inspected it for a moment before he found what he was looking for.

It was her tongue. There was a gash in it, and the area around it was swollen. All the events of what happened came back to him then, and he recalled what he'd done. They'd been making out, and he'd been sucking on her tongue as they both winded down. He recalled tasting a small hint of blood—one of his teeth must've nicked her tongue— and biting down, sucking greedily as her moans turned to screams.

He scowled at himself and he put his pants back on. He looked back at the corpse he was leaving behind; beautiful even in death. Steve grabbed his shirt in his hand and crawled out of the car, leaving the girl's body behind and disappearing back into the night where he belonged.

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><p>Darren scowled as he drew the drawstrings of his hoodie tighter so that it would obscure more of his face. He'd spent the past two weeks walking around his hometown aimlessly, milling between the townsfolk. Amazingly, nobody had recognized him yet. He'd even escaped recognition from his dad's friend, Chris Harkins! Last week, the officer had brushed right past him without even saying a word. Darren couldn't help but think about how right Mr. Crepsley had been about faking his death— it really was the only way to go. Nobody was expecting to see him, and so they didn't recognize the poor kid that had passed for dead.<p>

Regardless, he couldn't help but let out a sad sigh as he wandered the streets. He hated wandering amongst people he knew—they all looked so much older, even though it had only been about a year since he'd left. The fact that he couldn't stop and talk to any of them didn't exactly help, either.

He scowled despite himself. He didn't even know what he was looking for! He'd never seen a vampaneze before. Why did Mr. Crepsley even bother to send him out? Did he honestly expect it to do any good whatsoever? How could he possibly be expected to find this mad vampaneze when he didn't even know what their people looked like? And if they were anything like vampires, he wouldn't even be able to tell the difference between him and the other townsfolk unless he looked at the scars on his hands.

Darren perked up a little at that. _The other townsfolk!_ He'd known (or at least seen) probably about ninety percent of the population here. That would leave only… what, three hundred and fifty people to look through? He brightened at the idea. That would make his job exponentially easier.

Darren stopped his stride when he heard some kids near the middle school talking. He approached the trio and demanded, "What did you just say?"

The tallest of the three stared at Darren incredulously, sizing him up before deciding that he was safe and repeating: "I said that they found two cops dead in some girl's backyard. There was no blood left in the bodies."

Darren's blood went cold as a boy who looked much older than the others added coolly, "They have no clue who did it. Nobody lives there except some teenager. The cops were killed by getting their throats slit… Other than that and the lack of blood in their bodies, they had no injuries. They said that the wounds resemble that of a bear's claw, but that doesn't make sense because they didn't have any other signs of attack. There was no spilled blood or anything, either. But the weirdest part is that the only fingerprints on the guys were those of somebody who died almost four hundred years ago."

"How creepy is that?" the third kid, a boy with bright red eyes and white hair, demanded.

"They took in the girl who lived there in for questioning, but she's, like, mentally unbalanced or something. She just kept muttering about some guy named Johnny and how a kid named Steve saved her from him. And then she started freaking out about some guy named Murlough," the oldest one added.

"She's probably friggen insane," the albino one scoffed.

Darren stared intently at the older one who knew all of the facts. "Do you happen to remember the girl's name?" he asked urgently. The only thought he had was, _Please don't be Mikey… Pleasepleaseplease let her be safe…_

"I don't know… Something Freiland. They aren't letting most people know because she's under eighteen."

Darren's breath caught in his throat, and he sprinted over to Michaela's house.

_Of course…_

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><p><em><strong>AN: So, what'd I tell ya? Not that bad, right? But I would really appreciate a review or two because… well, I'm not so sure of how this came out. Writer's block and all. :D Thanks!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note: I'm actually pretty surprised at the positive feedback I'm getting on this so far… I'm so glad that people have liked this; you have no idea how happy that makes me! :D I really appreciate the reviews; you guys are the friggen **_**BEST! **_**:D**_

_**~And, since he's extra-amazingly awesome, special thanks goes to JinxedRonny for his constant reviews and support. I appreciate it more than you could ever imagine(:**_

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><p>Michaela couldn't help but feel a chill as the reporter from her local news channel told the "tragic" story of Johnny and his gang on her television. The small Asian woman's over-exaggerated facial expression, dramatic pauses, and theatrical arm movements made the news hard to bear, but Michaela forced herself to sit tight. She needed to know absolutely everything.<p>

According to the reporter, all of their bodies had been identified, and their funerals were supposedly scheduled to take place during the next week. The police had found the two cops in "a local teenager's" backyard (shortly after Larten had saved her from Murlough) and she'd been taken in for questioning. There was no evidence in the girl's house, and (without Larten by her side) she'd resorted to being a blabbering idiot during the questioning. Unknown to the news reporters or anybody but Michaela, when the girl had gotten home, she'd been welcoming with an empty, cold house. Not that she'd expected any different, but she'd kind of been hoping that someone (particularly Larten) would be there to greet her. But she soon realized that she was alone, which was when she'd curled up in a ball and cried her eyes out, cleaned her room, made herself some tea (whenever Steve came over, he had always insisted on pouring vodka in it, but Michaela thought it tasted gross so she rarely did), and sat on the couch. She clutched her non-spiked cup of tea in her hands and sighed; she loved the comfort that its warmth gave her.

It reminded her of the warmth of Steve's body lying next to hers the night he'd saved her…

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><p>Darren inhaled deeply as he crouched on Michaela's balcony. He peered nervously into her room and when he didn't see her in her bed, felt a sharp pain in his chest. His heartbeat sped up as he slid open her sliding glass door and stepped inside her bedroom, only half of his fear caused by the fact that he knew it was stupid and he'd be in some deep shit if he got caught. The other half, the half that was overriding his own well-being, was due to the fear of where Michaela <em>might <em>be. He knew it was irrational, but he was worried about her. She could be at Steve's house, or at a party, or out at dinner, or even just downstairs. His paranoia—which really needed to learn to shut up— was telling him that she was in the woods somewhere, broken and bleeding and crying for help. Even though it was highly unlikely, he couldn't help but let the worry and fear consume him.

The instant he'd entered her room, he was hit by an overwhelming sense of… _her. _He'd had so many great memories in this room, so many great memories with this _girl_, and he felt every single one flashing through his mind at hyper-speed. He almost laughed when his first thought was, _I can almost smell like her. _It was her room—of _course _it would smell like her. He looked around at all of her belongings, and frowned at how… _barren _it was. Michaela used to always have random toys and pictures and make-up and clothes strewn everywhere. One of Darren's favorite memories was the shade of red Michaela's face had turned the first time the trio had walked in, and Steve had instantly picked up one of her bras off of the bed post. She'd blushed a furious shade of red, snatched the bra from Steve's hands, and kicked the two guys out of her room.

A small chuckle escaped his throat as he recalled Michaela stumbling over her words, just stuttering in her humiliation. An idea struck him as he gazed around the room. _What other memories did this room contain? _he wondered, a lightbulb instantly appearing over his head. He was just beginning to walk across the floor to her closet to see if she still had the scrapbook the two of them had made when—_of course— _the doorknob turned. Darren did nothing but stare at the door while it opened, petrified.

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><p>Steve stared at the heavily armored guard in front of him, ready to kick his ass if he had to. He didn't care that the man was twice as strong as he was, or that his eyes were shooting daggers at him, or even that he had a very large and <em>very <em>deadly weapon on him. Steve was half the man's size, completely unarmored, and weaponless. However, he knew his way around a glare and he was freaking _determined. _He needed to get in the room, and so he would.

Steve's angry determination and any bloodshed that would result from it turned out to be unnecessary, because Mr. Tiny walked up behind him before either vampaneze could launch themselves at the other. "Let the child through," he commanded. The infuriated guard let out an unsatisfied huff, but instantly stepped aside for the prophet and the child.

"Thanks," Steve told Mr. Tiny genuinely as they made their way through the entrance to the eerie, torch-lit room.

"Do not thank me… I'm merely assisting you in your destiny." The room grew silent when everybody noticed Mr. Tiny. When all eyes landed on the pair, the younger of the two froze in his place. He was frozen in place, solidified by his nerves. Mr. Tiny promptly shoved him forward with an exasperated look on his face. "Go on, my boy. I have not all day to deal with your foolishness."

Steve inhaled sharply, knowing that there was a hell of a lot of his people watching him. _His people. _He could never get enough of saying that; he couldn't wait to make it official. They were all below him, and they would all know it very soon. He approached the fire coffin, and was directly in front of it before the reality of what he was about to do struck him. He was, essentially, committing suicide— and he'd look like a complete dumbass if he was wrong.

He glanced around at all of his people, and he realized that he had to do that. He needed to lead them… he felt it in his being that he was their Lord. He recalled Mr. Dalton always shutting him down, his mother and her boyfriends beating on him, and his peers that feared him. All of his life, there were really only two people who believed in him…

He had every intention of proving all of the assholes who dared to doubt him wrong. And so, with that thought, he stepped inside the coffin. The door shut over him, and he waited five… ten… thirty seconds. He pushed the door open and emerged, unscathed.

The title was his.

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><p>Michaela pushed open the door to her room, thoroughly exhausted. She moment she stepped into her room, a breeze hit her. She glanced over to the side, and surely enough, the door to her balcony was open. She froze in place and instantly looked around, only to find that there was a person in her room. She recognized the figure, but she couldn't place it. She knew it wasn't Murlough (too short), but it also wasn't Larten (too thin), but she couldn't think of anybody else it could be. She fearfully slapped out her hand and turned on her light, petrified of whom could possibly be in her room. These kinds of things rarely ended well for her.<p>

She stared at the person in her room, and her jaw dropped. She was certain that her eyes must be deceiving her. She blinked rapidly, but the figure remained. After a few moments of complete silence, she whispered, "Darren?"

He slowly lifted his hand and waved to her. "Um… yeah. Hi."

Michaela's tea instantly dropped to the ground, spreading glass and liquid all over the place. "You… you aren't… you _can't _be… You're dead!"

Darren smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. I get why you might think that…"

"Aw, fuck… I'm really crazy, aren't I?"

He shook his head furtively. That was the _last _thing that he'd wanted. "No. No, Mikey, you aren't crazy at all. I promise. I'm really here, you're really here… we're here, in your room, together. We shouldn't be, but we are. I was supposed to be long gone…"

Michaela let out a barking laugh as tears began to run down her face. "Darren, I'm crazy, you're dead, but you're _here, _and I'm crazy, I bet I dreamed everything that's happened…"

"Mikey, are you… are you crying?" He looked at her concernedly, worry lighting his eyes. "Aw, Mikes… please don't cry. Baby. Don't cry…"

"Y-you're h-here… but… you're d-dead…"

He stood there awkwardly for a moment before holding his arms out to her. She let out a strangled sob before making her way over to him. She had just been engulfed in his warm, comforting embrace when he stiffened. He looked down at her, struggling to contain himself. "Y-your…"

She looked down with a small frown on her face and commented, "Oh. I guess I must've stepped on a piece of glass."

He felt his body shake and he pushed her down against the bed. He advanced menacingly and had just pinned her arms down when he heard her exclaim, "Darren, what the _hell?" _It was enough to snap him out of his trance. He gazed down at her angry, frightened face before swiftly backing away from her. "S-sorry…" he choked out before sprinting out the door.

He almost dissolved into tears at the mere thought that he was enough of a monster that he was really at truly willing to _hurt _her. That had been too close for his liking. _Way _too close.

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><p><em><strong>AN: I typed this in, like, a twenty-minute span of time while at my friend's house, so I'm actually quite proud of myself (despite its extra-short length). However, said friend didn't take as long to get ready as I thought, so I don't have time to proofread/edit this as much as I'd like. Sorry about that)': But anyways, my computer still isn't fixed so unless I get another rare opportunity like this one it'll be a while until my next update. Sorry about the wait and the slight decrease in quality for this chapter, but I hope you like it anyway(:**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note: My computer is officially back! :D This chapter used to only have three scenes in it (as opposed to my usual four), but I found out that I messed up big time by doing that and went back and changed it. So… yes. Read and enjoy! :D**_

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><p>Steve frowned across the table he was sitting at with Mr. Tiny. How could he helped but frown, after what had just happened? "I don't see why you had to kill them."<p>

"Because, Steve," Mr. Tiny explained with much forced patience, "It is not yet the time."

Steve's frown quickly turned into a scowl that masked his whole face into an expression of hatred. He gestured to all of the dead vampaneze lying around the cavern they were in with his arm— there was probably a good fifty of them. "If you were going to kill every single witness… then why'd you bother letting me step into the fire coffin? Better yet, why'd you let me try it with so many freaking _people _in the room?"

Mr. Tiny sighed at the child's inability to comprehend anything beyond his own desires and what was left of his crumbling morals. "You fail to see the bigger picture. It is important that _you _know of your destiny, Steve. However, it would not work to our advantage for everyone to know. Not yet."

"Then why did you let me step into the coffin while everyone was around? Why not when it was only a few people?"

Mr. Tiny's eyebrows rose of their own accord. "You have killed in cold blood, and yet you have the nerve to argue my motives?"

Steve's jaw clamped shut as he fought to control the rage that Mr. Tiny's comment brewed inside of him. He paused to let himself cool down before saying, "I just don't understand why my people can't know yet."

"_Because, _Steve. The Lord must arise while the vampaneze are at their absolute weakest. They need to see what it is like to be doomed. The Lord's— that's means _you, _Steve— coming will instill a new sense of hope and even further hatred inside of every member of the species."

"Hatred?" he asked with a confused expression on his face.

"Yes, Steve. Hatred towards the vampires."

"Towards Darren," Steve translated, suddenly warming up to the plan.

"Towards all vampires, _including _Darren."

"So… Darren," he clarified. He honestly didn't care about the other vampires or the 'war' that they were all going to have. He only cared about Darren. All he wanted was to find him, extract his revenge, and then kill his best friend. He didn't care how long it took; he just knew that it was going to happen. It would happen if it was the last thing Steven Markus Leonard _ever did._

Mr. Tiny merely sighed at the Vampaneze Lord's antics. It was no use trying to reason with this child, or to bother explaining the vitality of his role. Everything just went right over his head— he was far too wrapped up in his own head to look at that bigger picture or destiny or even what the results of his actions may be. He only wanted blood. Shan's blood.

However, that suited Mr. Tiny just fine.

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><p>Michaela stared down at the floor, just like she'd been doing for the past… what, half an hour? She's spent all this time waiting for Darren to come back, each second that passed making her feel worse and worse. She forced sighed, realizing that he wouldn't come back. He was going to leave her forever, just like Steve did. Darren was gone— and for real this time. She turned around, fully prepared to lie in bed and cry herself to sleep when she saw something out her window. Darren was standing outside, leaning on her balcony.<p>

She walked out the sliding glass doors and stood by his side. She stared up at the stars with him before turning her gaze onto his face. When she saw that he was crying, she placed her hand on top of where his lay. "Dare…"

His other hand shakily lifted up to wipe away the tears that rolled down his face. Even in this broken moment, Michaela was struck by how beautiful Darren looked with the moon's glow illuminating his body. He shook his head sadly before saying, "I just… I… I don't want to be a monster, Mikey."

She laced her fingers through his and folded her hand so that her palm was against his knuckles and their fingers were intertwined. "You're not a monster, Darren. No monster in the entire _universe _is as perfect as you are."

"I… I almost _attacked_ you!"

"So you have a blood fetish," she scoffed, waving her free hand to dismiss the idea. "Who cares?"

"You don't _get it! _I'm a freaking _vampire, _Michaela!"

She ignored the fact that he'd called her by her full name as well as the fact that she knew she should find his claims preposterous. However, it was Darren, and she whole-heartedly believed him. She answered soothingly, "I can handle that, too." When his expression didn't change, she changed her approached and demanded angrily, "_So what? _That doesn't change a single thing about you, Darren. Not a single fucking thing. You might be a vampire, but you're still the most beautiful person in the world— inside _and _out. You're supposed to be dead, but I still love you more than anything.

He finally turned his face to her. His dark eyes scanned her face for any trace of fear as he whispered, "How can you possibly love someone who has to constantly fight the urge to kill you?"

"I've never made good choices," she admitted. The corner of his mouth twitched, but other than that he didn't respond. His eyes bore holes into her, wanting a real answer, and she felt a chill run down her spine. "Because," she finally decided when she could no longer take the silence. "The fact that you're trying… It's way more important than any repercussions your friendship might cause me."

The pools of brown that had been staring her down with belligerent remorse turned angry. "My small shred of humanity is worth your life?"

She nodded immediately— she didn't have to think it over this time. "Yes," she responded immediately.

He wrapped his arms around her as he let out a long, shuddering breath. She could tell that he was trying to fight his way back from being on the verge of tears as he said, "Mikey… I… I love you."

She was about to say it back to him when an idea struck her. She pulled out of his embrace and stared into his watery eyes. "Do you?"

"Of course," he stuttered, taken aback by the fact that she would even have to ask.

She bit her lip, kind of scared by what she was going to do next. She rolled her sleeve up to expose a thin, scarred arm, never breaking their connected gazes. "Then drink," she ordered.

"I can't—"

"Look at you! You're half-dead. If you really love me, you won't make me see you like this."

"Mikey…"

"It isn't inhumane if I'm giving you permission," she pressed eagerly, hoping to god that he would break soon. "You won't be forcing pain upon me. I'm _asking _you for this, Darren. Please?"

He shook his head sadly and averted his gaze as he whispered, "What if I can't stop?"

"You will," she informed him, and pressed her arm into his hand.

Darren took in a short, shaky breath before carefully pressing his thumb nail into her skin, just like he'd seen Mr. Crepsley do a million times before. He frowned when it didn't even puncture her skin, much less draw blood.

Michaela groaned and walked inside her room. She returned momentarily with a small blade and pressed it into his palm. His eyes flashed from the blade to her face with a worried expression, and she laughed. "It hasn't seen action in years. Chill."

"Mikey, I don't think I can—"

She groaned exasperatedly and took the blade back from him. She held her breath as she swiftly moved it across her wrist with one quick motion, adding to her collection of scars for the first time in years. As soon as she saw the blood begin to flow, she glanced up at Darren's face. His eyes were widened; his pupils dilated.

"Do it."

His mouth was upon her instantly. He sucked hungrily, and she winced at the tug of blood being pulled from her veins. She waited until she felt her head grow light before speaking up, "Darren?" He didn't even look up, so she said pointedly, "_Yo. _Dare." When there was no response, she smacked him upside the head.

He menaced over her just like he'd done in the bedroom, ready to go for the kill— how _dare _she interrupt his feast! He'd only advanced about half a step before he snapped out if his trance. Had he really been about to _hurt _Michaela? His best friend? One of the only two people he had left in the world?

He propelled himself backwards so that he was away from her and sat in the corner of the balcony, his back against where the railing and the wall of Michaela's house connected. He hugged his knees to his chest and stared down at his feet, fighting against the repulsion building inside him. He'd actually drunken her blood! He was about to look up and apologize when he saw Michaela's feet moving away from him. With the sound of each footfall, he could feel his outlook growing darker and darker. _He knew this would happen. _Despite his pessimism, Michaela re-appeared a minute or so later. She approached him and stood in front of him, studying his fetal-positioned body.

_No doubt deciding what would be the best way to kill me, monster that I am, _Darren thought glumly.

However, she surprised him by crouching down so that she was almost at eye-level with him. She placed her hand under his chin and tilted his head up so that their gazes met. She smiled at him comfortingly and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Feeling better?" she guessed.

Darren sighed softly in response, and Michaela sat next to him. He had no response in mind— How do you describe the most amazing surge of strength you will ever feel being accompanied by an overwhelming sense of self-hatred and guilt? He couldn't find the words, so instead he simply turned his head to face her and stated, "Your hair…"

She bit her lip and fingered her brown, unevenly chopped hair. It was about an inch past being shoulder length— it had grown a hell of a lot since she'd slaughtered her locks. "Yeah," she admitted.

"It's… nice?" he guessed. When he saw her snicker against her own volition, he grinned and admitted, "Alright, it's a wreck."

She laughed shortly before her expression sobered. "Yeah. It was, uh, definitely healthier before you guys left me."

Darren's brow furrowed as he repeated, "'You guys'?"

"You didn't hear?" She paused and said, "Well, I suppose that makes sense, being as you were 'dead' and all. Steve… he, um… he left too. Skipped town a week or two after your funeral. He came back for a day— saved my ass from some drunken bitches. But since then… I haven't seen him. He left again. He's moved on, and…" Her voice trailed off; she had no idea how to bring that sentence to a close. There were so many things she could put there— _'and I'm heartbroken', 'and I have to, too', 'and I don't think I ever will'… _All were possible responses.

Darren placed his palm on top of where hers rested on her thigh and interlocked their knuckles. She smiled at him gratefully before placing her head on his shoulder. He rotated their clasped hands to inspect her forearm and frowned a bit, inspecting her scars. "Why'd you keep the blade?"

She glanced up at him through her lashes and sighed deeply. She hadn't talked to anyone about this, _ever, _and she didn't really want to start now. "I don't know, Dare. I guess I just liked the idea of having at least one thing there for me."

Darren's frown deepened as he whispered, "I'm so sorry…"

Michaela lifted her head from his shoulder and glanced at his face in shock. "For what?"

"I don't know if you remember this… but I do." When she didn't interrupt, he continued, "I promised you, Mikey. I swore that I'd be here for you forever; that I'd never leave you. I promised to love you. And don't get me wrong; I do. More than anything. But I said you could trust me… _Best friends forever, _I said. Do you remember that? But I had to go and fake my own _fucking _death, and I left you with nothing but a blade to turn to." He shook his head, and his bangs fell over his face. "Some best friend…"

The fact that Darren dropped an f-bomb kind of scared Michaela; he _never _swore. But she ignored the way her gut clenched and brushed the hair out of his eyes lovingly. She held his face in her free hand again and stared into his eyes again as she said softly, "You listen to me _right now, _Darren Shan. None of what happens to me is your fault. Nothing I say or do can ever be blamed on you— got it? I love you. You're the absolute best friend that anyone could _ever _ask for. After all, you came back, didn't you? I mean… I understand that you probably don't want to get stuck here in this stupid town with me and will be leaving soon— but you still visited, which is a hell of a lot better than nothing." She paused momentarily before adding, "And I'll have you know that tonight was the first time I've used that blade since meeting you and St—" She stopped there. It hurt too much to say his name.

"Mikey…" He paused, not knowing what to say.

"Shh… I know." She let go of his face but maintained eye contact as she asked, "How long do we have?"

"I'm not sure. I'm busy during the days, but my nights are free until I leave town. I'm not sure when that'll be— could be tomorrow, could be next month."

"Can you maybe stay the night?"

Darren looked into her eyes, shining with hope, and found it nearly impossible to say no. He answered her question with one of his own: "Do I take the floor, or will you?"

"I was thinking we could both use the bed…"

He nodded, hoping that the dark of the night obscured his shocked reaction. He knew that she didn't mean that in a provocative way, but he was still surprised. She had never asked to share a bed before, and he was pretty sure that Steve was the only guy she'd ever slept with. "Sure."

"Thanks." She tore her gaze away from his and forced herself to her feet. She walked into her room with Darren on her heels, stopping to shut the door behind him. When she turned back around he was laying in the bed with his arm stretched across her pillow. Michaela rolled her eyes and climbed in, his arm under her shoulderblades. He used his hand to grab her upper arm and pull her into his body. She laughed, kissed his cheek, and let her head fall on his chest before sinking into unconscious.

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><p>Steve shivered as he ran his hand over the center of his head and craned his neck to see behind him. The knife Arlingsby had thrown at him was stuck in the wall, and there was now a freshly-shaved streak in the center of his head of hair.<p>

_I was _that _close to death…_

Arlingsby let out a menacing roar, angry beyond belief that the boy had lived. He _never _missed! He charged at the new vampaneze boy with nothing but fury and hatred in his eyes. This mere child was a disgrace to their people, and Arlingsby wanted nothing more but to see his lifeless body sprawled out on the floor.

Steve almost cringed at the incoming threat, but let Arlingsby rush at him lethally. _You're no quitter, _he scolded himself as he held his ground. A moment before impact, he jumped out of the way.

A small laugh escaped Steve's throat as he watched his opponent's head smash into the wall, having been unable to cease his momentum. His laugh quickly transformed into a gasp as Arlingsby's crash jarred the knife from its position in the wall. The blade fell, and Arlingsby looked up to see what the boy was gasping at. The knife landed right between his eyes a second later, making itself the last thing Arlingsby ever saw. Steve winced as he watched the knife impale the man's face and go straight through his skull.

_That's gotta hurt… _Steve thought warily while blood sputtered its way out of the wound. He felt a pang of disgust and pushed it away.

_You love blood, _he reminded himself unconvincingly. _And fights. And killing. You're a natural-born, cold-blooded murderer. Get used to the brutality, Steve—you'll be dishing out a hell of a lot of it. After all, how can you _possibly_ lead the Vampaneze to victory if you can't even handle a little gore?_

He banished all squeamishness from his mind as he left the room their fight was in to go join his people in strength training. He left the training facilities early, though, because no matter how hard he worked, the sound of the knife infiltrating Arlingsby's brain stayed with him.

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><p>About a week had passed since their first night together, and Michaela was finally getting used to the idea that Darren was hers again. She had her best friend back— for the nights, at least—, and she was finally done doubting him. She knew he was going to leave eventually, but she was done being upset about it. She was just happy for the time that they <em>did <em>have together, and that fact had brought her most of the way out of her depression. She'd gotten her hair leveled out and bleached back to the blonde she'd always had, minus all of the funky highlights. She didn't think it was worth it, being as her hair was still so short. She looked almost like the Mikey that Darren had known and loved.

The biggest difference in Michaela, though, was her closeness to Darren. Whenever they were together, she was constantly by his side. If she wasn't standing next to him, she was in his arms. If she wasn't in his arms, she was holding his hand. They spent every night curled into each other.

Not that Darren was complaining, of course. He loved his best friend and would do absolutely anything to make her happy. He was only afraid of when he was going to have to leave her again. He didn't want her to get too used to having him around. He didn't want her to be as devastated about losing him as she'd been the last time they'd said goodbye.

"Dare?" Michaela asked softly, bringing him out of his mid-breakfast thoughts.

"Mmph?" he inquired, his mouth full.

"Are you… leaving?" She caught his quizzical expression and explained, "You've hardly talked at all today. Your appetite isn't as big as usual. And… you have 'goodbye' written all over your face."

He swallowed his mouthful of cereal and shook his head. "I guess I'm leaving, technically, but I'll be back around sunset. Same as always."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He dropped a light kiss on her forehead and flitted as well as a half-vampire could out of her house.

She watched him leave, happy that he wasn't a full vampire because had he gone any faster, she wouldn't have been able to see him go. She sighed when the door slammed behind him and stood wearily, stretching before carrying his bowl over to the sink. She'd just begun to rinse it out when she heard her front door open again.

"You miss me already?" she called over her shoulder jokingly, knowing that her voice would be heard over the running sink.

"No fucking chance," a familiar voice growled from in the living room.

Michaela dropped the bowl and froze at her older brother's voice. Chills ran down her back as a seemingly never-ending stream of memories of him flashed through her mind. "Oh. Um… hey, Joshua. Sorry. I, uh… I thought you were someone else."

"You whoring around?" he demanded, then let out a barking laugh. "I swear to god, you're just like your fucking mother."

Michaela gritted her teeth as she forced herself to ignore that comment. She was barely able to resist making the snide remarks that were itching to come out of her mouth. She knew what would happen if any of them escaped, though.

"And now you're speechless, just like your daddy. Good ol' Dad… where's he at again? Prison? Rehab?"

Joshua made it so hard not to put him in his place. She remembered back when they were best friends; before they found out that they were only half-related and that Michaela was the product of their mother's cheating. Before 'their' dad stormed out in a fit of rage. Before the cops and the courts and all of the fun stuff that had marred their childhood. Sometimes, she swore that getting beat senseless was worth getting her two cents' worth in.

_Just clean the dishes, Michaela. Don't say anything. Don't react. Do not, under any circumstances, let him get under your skin…_

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><p><em><strong>AN: I went back and added another scene to this, as well as editing and proofreading and such, so it's a better chapter now— complete with all four scenes! :D Because of all the changes I made, the previous author's notes didn't fit in anymore, soo I changed them a bit. Soo yeah(;**_

_**Read and review, puh-leasee? :D**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: Hmm. Absolutely no feedback on chapters six and seven so far… damn): Oh well. I'm not gonna be one of those authors that stops writing a story because of a lack of approval/feedback. I'm dragging this bitch out till the end(:**_

_**In addition, I'm not sure if it let out an alert or not so I'm just going to tell you: Go back to chapter seven and re-read at least the end. I was wrong about the scene; I needed all four to be in that one after all, so there's a new scene there. Read that, then come back to this chapter. Cool? Cool.**_

_**In further news, there's gonna be a tad bit of graphic violence in the last scene. Just a warning.**_

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><p>Darren approached Michaela's house about an hour after sunset. He knocked on her door out of courtesy— a habit he refused to break, despite her insistence— and waited for it to open. He smiled when he imagined the look on her face when she opened the door and saw it was him. He was late, and he had a feeling that Michaela had given up on him by now. He was going to actually seeing the regained sense of faith engraved into all of her features.<p>

His smile faded, however, when the door cracked to reveal her face, complete with a bloody mark on her temple. The picture standing before him was completely wrong. Instead of seeming overjoyed like he'd expected, her expression was dismal and her eyes weary. "What's wrong?" he demanded upon seeing her. "What happened?"

She widened the door enough to make conversation easier, but only enough so that he could see half of her face. Her eyes glued themselves to the floor as she lied, "Nothing…"

"Then can I come in?" he asked, raising both eyebrows. He knew he had her right where he wanted her; she had never done well when it came to situations such as these.

"NO!" she shouted without thinking. She bit her lip, knowing that any hopes of him remaining ignorant to her pain had vanished with that outburst. She looked at the ground ashamedly as she whispered, "You, uh, can't stay here tonight…"

"Why not?"

_"MICHAELA! WHO THE FUCK IS AT THE DOOR?"_ a booming voice, deep and angry, bellowed from inside.

"Your brother is here," Darren whispered. He'd known that something was off, but he'd expected it to be something like Steve showing up. He had no idea that it would be _this _bad…

_"NOBODY, JOSHUA!" _Michaela shouted into the house. She looked back at Darren and whispered, "You have to leave… I'm so sorry…"

"I'm not leaving you here alone with him," he responded simply. He refused to leave her in harm's way. If anything happened to her, he knew that he could never forgive himself.

She bit her lip again, tapping her foot to a nervous, tuneless beat as she thought about it. "Meet me on my balcony in five minutes," she finally agreed begrudgingly. She looked back at the house, a look of fear suddenly taking on her features— she'd obviously seen something that he hadn't caught— and slammed the door in his face.

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><p>Steve stood before Michaela's house, taking a deep breath before approaching it. He knew of his future now, and he had thought that the confirmation of greatness would erase his ex-girlfriend from his mind. However, watching so many people die before their time only reminded him of the girl he'd left behind. He didn't even care if her hair was disgustingly choppy and that she was only a remnant of her past self. He was going to go in there and show her exactly what it meant to be the Vampaneze Lord. He was going to go in there and show her exactly why she loved him, and exactly why she could never let him go.<p>

He scaled the two stories until he was on her balcony. He opened the sliding door, stepped into her room, and froze. Hot air blew in his face, but it didn't stop the chill from running down his spine or the ice from setting itself in his heart. He took a step closer in disbelief— an emotion that was only heightened when he saw who it was.

_Darren._

"What the _fuck?_" he shouted angrily with no sense of forethought. Michaela sat up rapidly, fear in her eyes. The expression was replaced by upset when she squinted and frowned, gazing confusedly at her ex-boyfriend. "Steve?"

At the sound of the older boy's name, Darren sat up. He looked at his one-time best friend, and his face paled. "Steve…"

"What the _fuck _are you doing?" he shouted again, not caring about his volume. He was hurt, he was surprised, he was pissed, and he was going to kill the both of them.

"Steve, I can explain," Michaela said swiftly. At the same exact moment, Darren began, "Look, it's not what it seems like—"

"Does she know? Did you tell her?" Steve demanded angrily. "Was she in on it from the start?"

Darren looked at Steve and said slowly, "She knows. I told her. She didn't know until she saw me one day though— _it was an accident. _She isn't—"

"She's one of you, isn't she?"

"I would never change her. Not in a million years," Darren swore. "I could never put her through that."

Steve took a step closer to them and demanded, "Get out of the bed. Now." When they didn't move, he screamed, _"NOW!"_

At that moment, Michaela's older brother barged into the room. "_What the fuck is all the yelling about!_" He saw Michaela in bed with Darren, with Steve standing next to it, and said, "Fuck. You. You _are _exactly like your fucking mother. And I'm going to fucking _KILL YOU._"

* * *

><p>About a half an hour later, Michaela looked up to see that Darren was back. She'd been sitting against the wall of their high school, trying to hold in all of her emotions. Immediately after the death threat Steve had told the two of them to leave— and Michaela sure as hell wasn't going to refuse such a great offer. She'd grabbed Darren and sprinted the hell out of there. They'd run until they'd reached the high school, at which point Darren had told her to wait there. She had sat there for a half an hour, just mulling over what had happened and wallowing in her emotions. It was a shitty half an hour, and she hadn't even had Darren there to hold her.<p>

He was back now, though. He approached her hesitantly; he was unsure of what he would be coming into. He was soaked from head to toe— it had begun to rain a few minutes after the pair had separated. He stood in front of her for a moment before saying awkwardly, "Hi."

She looked up at him and inquired, "What took so long?"

"I had to find the guy I'm traveling with…"

"You're traveling with somebody?" When he gave her a barely perceptible nod, she demanded, "Why haven't I met him?"

Darren sighed and offered her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. "He's a bit of a hard-ass. Insanely old-fashioned. Doesn't really like kids."

"I can handle it."

"Whether you can or can't, you're gonna have to," he muttered begrudgingly, then proceeded to pull her alongside him. They walked side by side for about ten minutes— or, rather, Darren walked and Michaela jogged— until they reached the cemetery. They stopped walking alongside its gates when Michaela saw the willow tree and stopped short. Darren looked back at her with a cocked eyebrow, but she shook her head adamantly. "Come on," he pleaded.

"I can't," she swore, looking at the willow tree. Memories of Johnny flashed behind her eyes, each one bringing an onslaught of pain and the threat of tears.

"I'm here," he whispered to her. "Nothing can hurt you while I'm with you. I won't let it. I promise."

"I'm sorry," she responded apologetically. "I'm being stupid, I guess. It's just that… that I… when I was there I… I almost got…"

Darren sensed the oncoming tears and enveloped her into a hug. "Shh. You don't have to tell me now. You can explain later if you want, when it doesn't hurt so much." He grabbed her hand again and said softly, "I swear to you, Michaela, that nothing but I will touch you unless you give your consent. I will personally rip apart anything that comes near you." He raised their intertwined hands and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, smiling as he did so.

"I love you," she said softly. She couldn't imagine her life without him. Well, actually, she could; she'd lived it. But she almost didn't know how much she missed him until he came back.

"I love you too, Mikey." He gazed into her eyes and added, "And you trust me, don't you?"

She hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Let's go…"

He led her across the length of the fence, noting how she held her breath while passing the willow tree. When her eyes closed out of fear, he draped his arm around her shoulders comfortingly. She hugged him around his waist, pressing her face into his chest, and continued walking.

She didn't open her eyes until she felt Darren stop. The moment their movement ceased, her lids rose and she glanced around. They were standing on Darren's grave. "Why are we here, Dare?"

"He'll be here," Darren promised. And sure enough, a man appeared before them a moment or so later. He had moved with an incredible speed, and the air he left in his wake whipped Michaela's hair so that her wet locks hit her face. She brushed them away swiftly and squinted at the man. It was dark out due to the late hour, and the falling rain further obscured her vision, but the figure looked familiar…

"Darren, what is this?" he asked, seemingly annoyed.

"Mikey, this is Mr. Crepsley. Mr. Crepsley, this is Michaela."

"Michaela?" Mr. Crepsley asked softly. At the same moment, Michaela shouted, "_Larten!" _and threw herself into his arms.

Darren raised an eyebrow at the two— he knew that they had met before, but he had had no idea that they were so close. Crepsley rarely ever showed sign of emotion.

"Darren! Why didn't you tell me that you were traveling with Larten?" Michaela exclaimed.

"I didn't know you remembered him," Darren admitted.

Michaela looked up at the scarred face of her savior and inquired, "He's kind of unforgettable."

"Why was I unaware that your days were being spent with your former best friend? That is some information that I, her makeshift father figure, would have cared to know."

Darren's face turned a shade of red that could be seen even through the dark and falling drops of water. "It isn't like that, Mr. Crepsley."

Mr. Crepsley rolled his eyes, not really caring about Darren's excuses. Instead of dignifying his denial with a response, he changed the subject. "Might I ask why you brought her to me?"

"When we were asleep—" Darren caught the look Crepsley was giving him and stopped talking while he blushed even further, but forced himself to go on after a moment. "When we were asleep, Steve came in. He got the wrong idea; started yelling… it woke up Mikey's brother. He said he was going to kill Mikey, so…"

"And how do you expect me to assist with your problems? Are you planning on bringing her along with us?"

"I really didn't think it out past getting her away from there," Darren mumbled, embarrassed by his lack of thought and impulsive actions.

"In that case, you are lucky that you happened to have chosen a child whom I am fond of," Mr. Crepsley said, smiling down at the girl in his arms.

* * *

><p>Steve watched Darren and Michaela escape the room before turning and growling at Joshua. All homicidal thoughts that he'd had towards the new couple—well, Michaela, anyways; he still hated Darren— had dissipated when her old brother threatened her. Steve had only met the guy once or twice, but nobody threatened Michaela and got away with it. "What did you say, man?"<p>

"I said that your bitch of a girlfriend is a dirty fucking _whore, _and the second I see her again I'm going to fucking _kill _her."

"That's what I _thought _you said," Steve responded before taking his nails and slashing them across the man's face as hard as he could.

Joshua collapsed on the floor in a ball of pain. He held the side of his face, his mouth in a wide 'o'. Steve's nails had gone straight through his cheek, leaving four gaping holes in his face. "What the fu—"

Steve kicked Joshua in the abdomen, hearing the satisfying sounds of breaking ribs and the whoosh of air leaving the man's lungs. Steve had no intentions of killing the man— at least, not before torturing him as much as possible. He grabbed his ex's older brother's arm and yanked him to his feet, dislocating his shoulder by accident as he did so. Steve grabbed Joshua's leg out from under him so that he was hopping on one foot, then twisted his foot all the way to the side in order to break his ankle. He raised the leg higher and higher so that the man it was connected to fell onto the ground. He immediately curled into himself, whimpering pathetically.

He bent down to eye level with his victim and let a small smile escape his lips. "How ya feeling, Joshy? Not too great, huh? Well, don't worry. I'm gonna make it all better…"

The last thing Joshua Freiland ever saw was a large black boot coming towards his face.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note: I don't think that was too-too graphic, was it? I just figured I might as well warn you, because there's always that one person who whines about how something corrupted their youth or whatever. Bahdeedahh. <strong>_

_**Review, puh-leasee?(:**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note: I've decided to change the formatting of this story a little bit. Instead of having the set number of scenes per chapter stay four, I think I'll just do one or two scenes. I say this because now that everything is coming together, we don't need a chapter for each of the three characters' perspectives. We usually have at least two of them together. So, the amount of scenes will probably range. For example, this chapter is going to be one scene. I've decided to do that because this is, hands-down, my favorite scene so far. I want it to be alone, because it deserves it in my opinion. I'll have another update soon, so bon voyage for now(;**_

_**Read and review? :D**_

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><p>Michaela rubbed her hands over her arms to fight off some of the cold that was encasing her as she walked down the road with her vampire companions. Mr. Crepsley happened to choose the right time to look over at her and frowned when he saw his de facto daughter's actions. He scrutinized her blue lips and purple-ish skin before demanding, "Why did you not tell me you were cold?"<p>

"D-didn't th-think it was imp-portant," she stuttered out through her chattering teeth. She ran her hands down the lengths of her arms faster to create as much friction heat as possible.

"Your comfort and necessities are of the utmost importance," he corrected her sternly. After weighing his options for a moment, he removed his cape from his neck and draped it over her petite shoulders. "Please, do not hesitate to speak up. You are less of a hindrance if you do than if you do not."

"That's a lot different than my 'sit down and shut up' policy," Darren grumbled, only half-joking. He still felt a lot of resentment towards his mentor, but given the fact that he and Michaela were so close, he was willing to at least pretend to be pleasant. The difference in the way he treated the two of them did, however, get on his nerves.

"Yes, well, Michaela has very few needs, whereas you have infinitely many," Crepsley responded simply. He reached back to brush off the top of his cape out of habit and frowned when it wasn't there. He made a mental note to take it back as soon as it was warm enough for her to be without it.

Michaela stuck her tongue out at her best friend as she hugged the cape of her father figure closer to her body. She couldn't help but revel in his leftover warmth. He noticed her actions and chuckled, but unlike he would if it had been Darren, he made no comments against her or her behavior.

Darren, however, was still stuck on Mr. Crepsley's previous comment about his neediness. "What have I _ever _asked for that was so unreasonable?" he demanded defensively.

Mr. Crepsley's eyebrows rose of their own accord, asking if Darren _really _wanted to play this game. When his expression did not waver, he began to list a few of his assistant's previous demands. "You ask not to drink blood—"

"Because I'm human!" Darren cried out. His mentor _knew _the reasoning behind that one!

Crepsley ignored his outburst and went on, "And you have requested to sleep in a hotel—"

"It'd be more comfortable for the both of us to sleep in beds than on the ground!" Darren defended himself.

Once again acting as if the child hadn't spoken, Crepsley listed Darren's final and most unreasonable demand. "And you ask to be mortal again, which is completely impossible."

"That's me _wishing _for something. It wasn't a request!" he practically screeched, throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis.

Michaela noticed how close Darren was to having a complete and utter emotional breakdown and wrapped her arms around him from behind. She got on her toes so that she could rest her chin on his shoulder and said reassuringly, "Shh…"

Mr. Crepsley rolled his eyes as Darren angrily wiped tears off his face and grumbled the first thing that popped into his head, something that related to nothing: "We can't keep going so slow for you."

She took a step back from him, placed her hands on his shoulders for support, and jumped into the air. She straddled his back and wrapped her legs around his waist before placing her head on his shoulder happily. "Now I won't slow you down," she told him sweetly.

"You're friggen annoying," he growled at her, but there was a slight smile tugging at his lips. She peered over and saw the corner of her mouth twitch, which caused a grin of her own to start up. She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"You love me," she assured him, which caused him to let out a bittersweet laugh.

"Do I, now?" he demanded harshly, raising an eyebrow. He turned his head to see her face, still facing his.

She paused and pretended to have to think about it before she nodded her affirmative answer. "Yup."

Darren stopped walking and allowed Mr. Crepsley to pass the pair before whispering, "You sure?"

"Yes," she repeated. She knew he did, even if (more like _when_) he was in an incredibly bad mood and wanted nothing to do with her. He would always love her— at least; she _hoped _that he would.

"Well… I guess if you're sure…" He took two steps forward as if they were going to start walking again before grabbing her forearms where her hands clasped them together and flipping her so that she was in front of him. She let out a small squeak of surprise as he forced her back against a boulder. She gazed at his face in shock as he bared his teeth leaned in closer to her body. She squeezed her eyes shut fearfully as he brought his teeth to her neck. Even if he was her best friend, having a vampire's teeth at your throat— especially one who is insanely thirsty— isn't exactly an experience you want.

"You love me," she squeaked under her breath, but he pretended not to hear it as he placed one hand on each side of her body and leaned in over her. She felt his hot breath on her neck and his cool teeth against her skin. They stood like that for a few seconds before Darren's mouth took on the form of a smile and he pressed his lip against her neck to kiss it and pulled away slowly.

"You're right," he declared. He stared into her eyes for a few moments before letting out a chuckle. He shook his head and ducked it as he walked after Mr. Crepsley and quiet laughter ran through him.

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><p><em><strong>AN: I don't know why, but I really like that scene(: Let me know if you what you think in a review? :D**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note: I'm running out of ideas for this story… so I think I'ma take a break after this chapter "/ Not a long one; I'll try to get back to it as soon as possible. I've just been suffering some major writer's block.**_

* * *

><p>Steve strolled into the McDonald's casually and walked up to the counter by the cash register. He looked up at the menu on the wall and then down at the cashier's face. He gave a slight nod of approval at her appearance before placing his order. "I'll have a number two, five, and nine."<p>

The cashier, who was a girl that looked to be about seventeen, punched in his order without bothering to look up at him. A small smile played on her lips as she joked, "Feeding a crowd, huh?"

"Nah, just a fat man." His mouth mimicked the actions of hers as he let out a soft laugh at his own joke. With his lean body and subtly sculpted muscles, the statement couldn't be any less true.

She got all of the orders onto a tray and pushed it over to him, looking at his face for the first time. A familiar smutty look appeared on her face, and Steve smiled at her, liking where this was going. However, after a few seconds her face morphed into the even more familiar expression of fear.

Steve couldn't help but frown at her change of heart. He liked when girls wanted him, not when they were terrified at the sight of him. He didn't like to shake people to their core unless he was actually planning on killing them. He consciously wiped his mouth with his sleeve; maybe there had been blood on it, and that's what she was freaking out about. After a moment of watching her stand frozen he inquired, "My food…?"

"R-right!" she fumbled to push the tray closer to him and wound up practically throwing it into his arms. "H-have a n-nice day," she stuttered warily. He gave her a skeptical glance and walked away with his meal.

The moment his teeth sunk into a burger, the encounter left his mind. He had always loved food, and could eat truckloads even before he was changed. He had just finished his last combo meal when he felt cool metal being pressed against his wrists. He turned his head angrily to see what the hell was going on, but his head was quickly shoved back down. His cheek pressed against the table. He was pinned.

"Steven Leonard, you have the right to remain silent…"

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note: So, this was a mad short chapter. Sorry about that. I figure I'm going to start doing one scene per chapter, which will allow for more frequent updates when I get back on my feet. Cool? Cool.<strong>_

_**Review please?(:**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note: **_**No **_**reviews on the last chapter so far… Come on, guys! I know you're reading this. You don't even have to leave a nice review! Hell; it could be a single word for all I care. But the less feedback I get, the more discouraged I am from writing this… I'm not saying I'm going to stop the story, because I'm not like that, but the updates will get further and further apart. ):**_

_**Read and review! (Please?)**_

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><p>Michaela followed her best friend and sort-of dad onto the campground with a straight face. But then moment she saw one of the performers, her composure was lost. She looked around with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Occasionally she would gasp if there was an especially amazing performance going on, such as Rhamus Twobellies swallowing the swords that Alexander Ribs threw at him. Every once in a while, Darren would look back at her and laugh. He was so happy that she liked it here. He knew he shouldn't have worried, but a little voice in the back of his mind was worried that she would see the place and run.<p>

In fact, Michaela seemed to fit in perfectly at the Cirque. She smiled at the right people, laughed at all of the right acts, and was relatively pleasant. She got into a little argument with Truska over her outfit— which, of course, Darren and Mr. Crepsley didn't understand. The entire time they just stared at each other, wondering how Michaela knew the woman's strange language. They made mental notes to ask her about it later.

After a few short minutes, word of Michaela's presence spread like wildfire. People joined around, all eager to meet the new 'member' of the Cirque. In Darren's mind, there were only three flaws in her near-perfect introduction.

_Flaw 1: Mr. Tall._

The moment Mr. Tall heard of a new member milling around without his approval, he cut through the crowd surrounding the trio and stood directly behind them. He cleared his throat pointedly. Everybody fell silent, and Mr. Crepsley, Darren, and Michaela all turned around to face him. He gestured to the three of them and demanded, "Please follow me into my tent."

Michaela cocked an eyebrow and muttered, "That's kinda sketchy…" Darren laughed, causing both Mr. Tall and Mr. Crepsley to glare at the kids. They shut up immediately and followed the adults into the tent.

"Please, have a seat," Mr. Tall invited the group. His eyes bore holes in Michaela, and she felt like he could see right through her.

"We are more comfortable standing, thank you," Mr. Crepsley kindly declined. He was looking at Mr. Tall skeptically, as if he didn't quite know what was going to happen. The fact that Mr. Crepsley looked uneasy didn't exactly help Michaela's nerves.

Darren looked over at her and snaked his fingers through hers. She looked down at their intertwined hands and gave him a grateful smile. She leaned into him a bit, and he kissed the top of her head. Michaela's newfound comfort was shattered, however, when Mr. Tall pointed a bony finger at her. "Larten, might I ask what the meaning of this is? Why have you brought her here?" He didn't allow Mr. Crepsley the chance to answer before he added, "Are you aware of what having another vampire here will do to the Cirque?"

"She is human, Hibernius. Calm yourself. Although, might I add, having yet another vampire at the Cirque would do nothing harmful. You are a neutral place and the addition or subtraction of people of my kind would do nothing to affect that. In addition, we were meandering out way over here when you interrupted us. I would never allow a guest to stay without your approval, and we were just coming over here to gain it."

Mr. Tall nodded his approval at that response. He pursed his lips together as he contemplated what he was going to say next. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and cocked his head to the side. "Might I ask what your business with a human is?"

Mr. Crepsley smiled evilly at that, then began to answer the question. "I do believe my assistant to be taken with her. Normally that would not be enough reason for her to stay, but she is like a daughter to me and I intend on keeping her safe."

Darren began cough uncontrollably as a blush heated his face at Mr. Crepsley's first half of his answer. Michaela, however, was too busy laughing at Darren's reaction to be embarrassed. When they both quieted down, Mr. Tall turned his head back to Mr. Crepsley and let out a sigh. "I trust your judgment, Larten; I do. But are you sure that it is not more dangerous for her to travel with us?"

"She comes from a… _broken _home, we shall call it. Believe me, Hibernius; she is much safer here with us." He paused and stared at Mr. Tall as if reading his mind. "We have no current intentions of changing her, Hibernius. We shall leave her human as long as possible."

"Very well." Mr. Tall stood from his desk and strolled over to Michaela, then offered his hand. When she took it he said, "I apologize for being so rash."

She let out a small, sad smile as she informed him, "Don't worry about it. Like Larten said, I come from a 'broken home'. I'm used to it."

He nodded curtly and said, "Children, you are dismissed. However, may I have a word with you, Larten?"

_Flaw 1: Solved._

Michaela and Darren walked outside the tent and stood there for a moment. Michaela turned to Darren and inquired, "Want to eavesdrop?"

Darren shook his head profusely. He looked at her and advised, "Don't _ever _eavesdrop on Mr. Tall. He always finds out and pulls you into the tent. Trust me." His face brightened after a second and he exclaimed, "Hey, wanna go meet Hans Hands?"

"Sure, why the hell not?" She followed her over-excited vampire of a best friend as he led her over the act he was so eager to show her. She froze in her tracks halfway over, though, when she caught sight of the Wolfman's cage.

Darren went on walking, not even noticing that Michaela wasn't still trailing behind him. Meanwhile, she found herself mesmerized by the beast inside of the cage.

_Flaw 2: the Wolfman_

Michaela approached the barred cage slowly, awestruck by this huge animal. She stared at its beastliness, its gray and brown patches of fur, and its bloodshot eyes. Completing the picture was an open mouth, with slobber and slime dripping off of perfectly pointed fangs. She got closer to the monster. She didn't know what it was, but something about it was drawing her in. She was about a foot away from it where she reached her hand out to pet it.

A wiry arm snaked around her midsection and yanked her backwards just as the Wolfman roared to life and snapped its jaws right where her hand had been.

_Flaw 2: Solved. _

"Holy _fuck,_" Michaela exclaimed at the once-calm creature that had just sprung to life and tried to rip her arm off. She then turned around to face the person who had undoubtedly saved her life. In front of her was a thin boy with scales instead of skin, dark brown hair, and a beanie. She gave him an incredulous look and said softly, "You saved me."

_Flaw 3: Evra._

He paused for a few seconds, not knowing how to react to that. He wasn't used to being a hero or anything. He hadn't even realized what he was doing until he'd done it. After a moment's thought he admitted a humble, "Yeah."

Without any warning she flung herself against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He was startled into doing nothing for a moment until he got a hold of himself and clutched her to his chest. Once again Michaela breathed out a shocked, "Holy fuck."

"Yeah," Evra agreed with a small smile. "The Wolfman isn't exactly the friendliest wold-human hybrid in the world."

Realizing that she was in the arms of a complte stranger, Michaela pulled away from him and decided to change that fact. "Hi, I'm Mikey."

Where Evra's eyebrows would've been if he had any shot up as he realized where he knew this girl from. "You're Mikey? As in _the _Mikey? Darren's friend?"

"I didn't know I was famous," she responded with a grin. She realized that she didn't fully answer his question and added, "But, uh, yeah. That would be me."

"Well, I'm Evra Von. I'm Darren's roommate and believe me, he would _not _shut up about you the entire time I've known him." He grabbed her hand and shook it. He couldn't help but frown when her only response was a laugh. "Wait… aren't you gonna ask about my last name? Or my scales?"

"Why would I ask about your last name?" she questioned, and her brow furrowed. She thought about it before it clicked and she exclaimed, _"Oh! _You expected me to be like, 'Von what.' I get it now."

"And you didn't ask about my scales, either," he informed her. He was actually kind of disappointed by that fact, as if it meant she didn't care.

"Sorry," she apologized when she saw his upset facial expression. "It's just… I thought it'd be rude. I wouldn't have wanted to hurt your feelings or upset you or anything."

Her response fully made up his feelings, and a smile returned to his face. "Oh. No, don't worry about that. I'm pretty chill. Things just roll off my back. Besides, it's kind of cool to be half-snake."

Michaela's jaw dropped and she couldn't resist reaching out and running her hand down his arm to feel his scales. She looked from her hand up to his face and exclaimed, "You're half _snake? _That's freaking _awesome!_"

A slight blush appeared on Evra's cheeks, creating a brownish color. Michaela couldn't help but laugh at his reaction to her compliment.

Darren showed up just then, standing at the top of the slight hill leading down to the Wolfman. He looked down at Michaela and Evra talking, then at their closeness to the Wolfman's cage. He frowned slightly before wiping the worried expression off of his face and calling down to them, "Hey, guys!"

The two newly acquainted friends looked up to see the person who had brought them together. A matching goofy grin appeared on both of their faces as they sprinted up and tackle-hugged Darren at the exact same time, causing him to fall over. He let out a pained groan that quickly turned into a laugh at his friends' similar antics. Evra pulled back and sat crossed-legged next to Darren's laying form and demanded, "Where the _hell _have you been?"

"Crepsley took me back to my hometown to stop something. I ran into Mikey by accident and… well, long story short, I couldn't leave her again." He looked up at his best friend, who was still sitting on top of him.

Evra grinned and where his eyebrows should be rose again. "Does that mean you'll quit being a boring mope now?"

"Of course!" Darren let out another laugh before he turned his attention back to Michaela. "And where did _you _wander off to? I thought you were following me!"

"I was," she responded. Then elbowed Evra and added with a grin, "But when I saw this sexy beast standing over there, I couldn't _not _stop and say hi."

Evra laughed at her joke and rolled his eyes, both humored and flattered. He knew she was kidding, but the fact that she felt so comfortable with him already had to mean _something, _didn't it?

Darren looked between the two and ignored the disgust that he felt at what he thought might be his friends becoming more than friendly.

_Flaw 3: Unresolved._

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><p><em><strong>AN: In addition to my desperate pleas for reviews, I'm looking for a Beta. Anybody interested? Leave a review or message me or something if you are. :P**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note: As you can probably see, I'm going back and forth with the chapters on following Steve's and Michaela/Darren's lives. I'm not sure if this format will stick, but it's working pretty well so far, so here's Steve. :D**_

_**And thanks to my Beta, StayBeautiful1, who helped make this chapter possible. :D**_

_**Read and review?**_

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><p>Steve paced back and forth in his jail cell angrily, pissed beyond belief that he didn't know how to get out of this hellhole. Well… Technically, he <em>did <em>know how to get out of this hellhole, but his chances were almost completely ruined when he accidentally murdered his cellmate. He hadn't meant to kill him, really; but when he began pulling apart the bars of his jail cell, his 'roomie' had tried to stop him. He was in vampaneze mode at the moment; there was no _way _he could've restrained his strength enough to only severely injure him. Steve had thrown him backwards, and he was dead the moment his head hit the wall. That was when they relocated Steve to a solitary cell with bars that he couldn't move if he tried.

_Convicted for the serial killings of over twenty women in the past two months… You're a monster, Leonard._

A small smirk played on said monster's lips as he played with a rubber band that he always wore on his wrist. In the beginning, he'd felt bad about ending all of the women's lives. What if they'd had families? Careers? But now that they'd landed him in jail, he felt nothing but pissed. Those bitches deserved what they got; he just didn't know it until now. He knew it was an odd thing to feel, and maybe he _should _feel guilty, but he didn't in the least. He continued playing with his rubber band— he knew that was probably off, too, but he'd been in the habit of carrying one with him since second grade. After some major pleading and whining, his captors had allowed him to keep one rubber band with him when he was alone. They took it away when he was around people.

_A rubber band, huh? What's that for? I mean, serial killers who spend their time in solitude don't typically ask to have a rubber band with them. After all, the worst you can do with it is maybe strangle yourself… which you're welcome to do at any time._

Yeah, the eighteen-year-old didn't exactly get the best treatment here in his cell. Since the death of his cellmate when he'd received his rubber band, which served part-time as a stress ball, he'd been by his lonesome. The only times he was in any sort of company whatsoever was when he was being interrogated.

_Tell me, Leonard. What the hell were you thinking?_

His trial was coming up on Monday, and he had every intention of getting out before then. He was currently working on forming a plan, and he had every intention of acting it out— whatever it was. He was sick of hearing his mother's sob stories on the television about how she 'tried to raise him well'— it was a load of bullshit. Being drunk off your ass and sleeping with random strangers wasn't exactly the best way to raise a kid.

_Seems like you've gotten off pretty well in your life. Decent enough mother. Does it make you sick, knowing you disappointed her?_

Made him _sick? _They had to be fucking kidding him. Every time he saw his mother's see-through fake tears, he couldn't help but let out a laugh. She didn't give a rat's ass, and neither did he.

_You should be ashamed of yourself, putting a nice lady like that through such hell._

'Nice lady'— that was a new one. He'd heard many remarks made about his mother being 'nice', but none of them lacked a perverse or sarcastic meaning. What he was most looking forward to, however, was the look of fear on her face. He couldn't wait to see her first interview after he freed himself; the genuine intimidation that shook her core and struck her spine. The immobilizing feeling of being truly _scared, _as he had throughout all his childhood.

_You've got a fucked up head, kid. I can tell you do, just by the way you're looking at me. You're enjoying this, aren't you? It's just a game to you, life is, and everyone else is just pawns. But, guess what? You're losing your own game, kid, and now you're playing by _our _rules. This would all be so much easier on you if you'd just play along, give us some answers…_

Here was the answer he always gave up for his interrogators: No. He refused to comply. He preferred watching the officers flinch at his every movement, seeing them cringe when he spat the occasional disgusted phrases, and witnessing the hope leave their eyes every time he shot down their attempts to get answers out of his so-called 'fucked up head'. He was in control of the situation; he could tell he did. And as long as he had that, he had his escape.

_You're never getting' out of here, kid. It's gonna be so much more difficult for you if you don't just answer us._

But, not answering was the key. Because he knew that he was faster, stronger, and smarter than the sad excuses of cops they had at his prison. He hated them all, and they would know it very soon. Because he, Steven Leonard, was getting his ass out of jail. Which was why, on this momentous occasion, he was going to speak. He would give them the answers that they were so vigorously searching for… at least, for a little while. Until they got close enough for him to kill them.

_Open your mouth, kid. Why've you got it if you ain't gonna use it?_

Steve stood up from his bed and towards his steel bars, placing his rubber band back on his wrist as he stared out at the officer strolling down the officer. He cleared his throat to get the man's attention, and when he approached Steve, he spoke the sentence that everyone in the jail had been waiting to hear from him: "I'm ready to talk."

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><p><em><strong>AN: So, based on our schedule, you'll see Steve's escape attempt (not sure whether or not to actually let him out yet) in chapter fourteen. Cool? Cool. :D **_

_**Once again, thanks to my Beta(:**_

_**Review anyone? :D**_


	13. Chapter 13

**_Author's Note: This chapter takes place about four months after the last chapter. Cool? Cool. :D_**

**_In addition, I'm going to start responding to reviews in my author's notes now. Why? 'Cause I can. Chyus._**

**_Thank you so much, StayBeautiful1, for being my wonderful Beta. If I was able to put a heart here I would(:_**

**_Read and review?(:_**

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><p>Michaela winced as she walked into her tent and found Darren sitting there. He was frail and sickly looking; his condition had worsened a lot in the four and a half months since he'd last drank blood. <em>Her <em>blood. She felt herself shudder when her mind involuntarily flashed back to that night— she was proud of herself for helping him, and she didn't regret what she did, but just the idea of Darren's lips pulling blood from her veins… it made her uneasy. She knew it was a fact of life, but she didn't want to think about Darren like that.

Michaela knew that he was dying, and from the look of him, he wasn't far from losing his life entirely. He looked like he could drop dead any second. Every time he and Evra said they were going off to play with that Sam kid, she felt like grabbing him and telling him he wasn't allowed to go in case he died while he was there or something. But then she would recall the reason why she never hung out with him, stop herself from saying anything, and watch him walk away with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

But now, with him in her tent, her heart seemed to freeze in place. She gazed at him for a moment and choked out a strained, "Hey."

He looked her straight in the eyes and smiled, the pale skin looking like it was just barely able to stretch over his cheekbones. She cringed internally, but sat across from him on her cot and forced a matching smile to spread across her lips as he responded, "Hi. Do you want to play a game of cards?"

Michaela paused for a moment before thinking of ways to get out of this and inquiring, "It depends… What time is it?"

Darren checked the watch that had once wrapped around his wrist but now hung loosely from its greatly decreased width. Michaela frowned at that too as he told her, "It's about ten thirty."

"Crap! I have to go," she lied, hoping that the truth of her not having the emotional capacity to stand his company didn't shine through. "I… We'll play later, alright?"

Darren threw the cards in his hand against her bed and scowled angrily. "Let me guess: you're going to go out and chill with Evra?"

Michaela paused before deciding to go with his assumption and nodded, putting a confused expression on his face. "Actually, yeah. How'd you know?"

Darren shook his head bitterly and spat disgustedly, "How do you honestly not know how I know? Ever since we've gotten to the Cirque, all you've done is spend time with him! Every time _I_ want to spend time with you it's always, '_Oh, sorry Darren, I know you're my best friend, but I'm going to go hang out with some other kid I just met because he's cool'._ It's… It's pissing me off! So bad!"

Michaela's eyebrows rose of their own accord at Darren's completely out of character outburst. She gave him a skeptical glance and demanded, "So… what? I'm not allowed to have any friends because _you _feel left out?" She felt her stomach clench as the sentence left her lips. She hated the way she knew she was making him feel— but at the same time, she hated the way _he _was making _her _feel.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it!" He paused and said in a voice just below his previous shouts, "I just want you to hang out with _me, _too!"

She shot daggers at him with her eyes. Did he honestly _not _know how much effort it took to be around him lately? She glared at him as she retorted, "I _have! _I've purposely gone out of my way to make time for your deteriorating ass, so don't even _try _to play that card!"

Darren shook his head with a bittersweet smile on his face as he said softly, "Do you honestly _not _know what this is about?"

Michaela could feel herself get every bit as worked up as he had been as she exclaimed, "No, I _don't! _All I know is that I'm _sick _of you acting like a fucking kicked puppydog or something! You're driving me _insane!_"

Without thinking, he looked at her and screamed, "Without me, you'd be _dead!_"

"Do you _really_ want to go there?" she demanded harshly. When his gaze didn't falter, she went on angrily, "Alright, fine, I'll fucking meet you there. Let's see where my life would be without you; shall we? Without you, Steve would've never gotten bitten by whatever bit him. I would've never been put through _hell _when you went and faked your own death. I would've never lost Steve to wherever the hell he ran off to! I wouldn't have almost gotten _raped _while standing by the tree near your grave. Steve would've never had to save me from the assholes that did it, so I would've never gotten my heart broken a second time by him. If it weren't for _you, _my brother wouldn't have wanted to kill me! I could be at _home _right now! And, if it weren't for _you, _Darren Shan, I wouldn't be dying on the inside _every time I look at you, _because I can't stand having to watch you die right in front of me!" She shouted the last line, but when she realized what she'd said she turned her face away from him to hide her face. She regretted her words the moment her mouth closed around the last syllable. Darren didn't deserve that. He deserved better. She felt her face heat up with shame at her outburst and closed her eyes, knowing that she wouldn't be able to handle seeing the hurt look on his face or hearing the crack in his voice as he responded.

"Michaela…" He looked at the right side of her face, which was the side that was facing him. He stared at her profile for a few moments as he tried to figure out what to say. When nothing came to him, he managed to choke out a simple, "I'm… I'm so sorry. About everything."

She shook her head softly, trying to erase all emotions from herself. She failed to do so and instead looked down at her shoes. A lone teardrop fell between her left and her right sneakers. Her voice cracked as she said, "I don't… I don't want to fight. Why are we fighting? We've never fought before."

Darren wrapped his arms around her like he always used to, but it wasn't the same. He felt… different. Weaker. Nowhere _near _as reassuring. It broke her heart to have to _feel _him dying, too, but she still managed to welcome his embrace eagerly. He stroked her hair lightly as he whispered, "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just so scared to lose you."

"Never," she breathed. "Not in a million years." She rested her head against his shoulder in a vain attempt to hide her tears from him. She gave up her attempts to keep them secret after a few moments and instead pulled back to stare him straight in the face. "Listen… I'm really sorry about what I said."

He cut her off abruptly and informed her sadly, "None of that was inaccurate. Don't worry. Really."

"That was part one of the list," she informed him gravely, holding up her pointer finger to enunciate her point. She lifted her middle finger to join it and inquired, "Want to hear part two?"

He hesitated, but she took the opportunity to begin. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have ever known love. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have known what it meant to be a best friend. I wouldn't _have _a best friend. I wouldn't have ever had a boyfriend, and I'd still be a virgin. If it weren't for you, I'd still be cutting myself. If it wasn't for you, Dare, I probably wouldn't even be alive right now. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be safe. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made a new best friend in Evra. And mostly, Darren, if it weren't for you I'd… I'd still be the same scared little girl I was in the beginning of high school. And in some ways, I am. But you've made me stronger, braver, smarter, and I love you for that. It's an un-repayable favor, and you'll never in your _life _be in danger of losing me. I'll love you forever."

Darren stared at her blankly for a moment before embracing his best friend in the entire world into a big bear hug. He held her as tightly as he could manage in his frail state and whispered in her ear, "I love you."

Michaela felt her heart begin to sing when she heard those words, which she could never get enough of. But at the same time she felt an apprehensive chill run down her spine— she couldn't help but wonder if this would be the last time she got to hear him say those words. "I love you too, Darren," she told him with all honesty. "I really don't know what I'd do without you."

He paused for a moment, hesitating before he made his next big move. He decided against thinking it through, because he knew that if he did, he would lose the courage. "Can I tell you a secret, Mikes?"

"Of course," she said earnestly, then pulled her head away from his chest so she could stare him in the eyes. "What is it?"

"I think I might want to kiss you," he told her, never once breaking eye contact.

She fought to keep her jaw from falling slack at his admission. She knew that they loved each other, and to say that she'd never considered him that way would be a lie— but she'd never thought that he would actually have feelings towards her, or that he'd act on them.

She especially never thought that she would consider letting him!

Her eyes bore holes into his for a moment, and he couldn't help but wonder what she'd say in return. He hoped that he hadn't ruined anything by blurting out something so stupid.

He needn't wonder for long, because after a moment of regaining her balance she came up with an answer that suited her. "If you drink blood, and I don't have to worry about you dying, maybe I'll think about it." She paused before adding an extra, "Maybe."

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><p><strong><em>AN: I thought it was time for them to have a moment like that. I don't know about you guys, but I've been waiting for it. Lmao. (: Joking aside though, this is my legit favorite chapter so far._**

**_Review please? :D_**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Author's Note: I am so, so sorry about taking so long with this. Especially since it's so short. I'm so far behind in everything... FanFiction-wise, that is. I make no promises on when I'll update this again, or when Changing Fates will be up. I'm working on the next chapter for that, and i have an idea for the next chapter in this. So we'll see. Thank you guys so much for bearing with me!**_

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><p><em><strong>Review Response Time (Finally!)<strong>_

_**CSHarrison: Thanks! c:**_

_**Kexy Kewl: We should start talking again! I need to get re-inspired for this story, hahaha. Or just... writing in general. It's been sooo long! And I'm glad you like this c: I re-read it and hated it... But I mean, I guess since the more you write the better you get, the worse the beginning is going to seem hahaha. c:**_

_**JinxedRonny: I think your forgetting to review is forgivable, considering I haven't updated in... What, six months? Longer? Hahaha. And oooh, really? Love triangles are kinda my thing c: &&in return for your promise, I promise that that my next update will **_**not _be in 2013! c:_**

**_Onyxx-09: That awkward moment when you say you're glad to see me back and then I die on everybody... Hahahahaha! And it's okay that your review wasn't long hahaha, you're probably more dedicated to this story than I am at this point! c:_**

**_StayBeautiful1-MrsRyanross: Thanks boo!_**

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><p>Steve sat in the interrogation room with a forced blank expression. He stared across the room at the interrogating officer for a few minutes before the man boomed, "Leonard, are you going to talk? Or are you just going to keep wasting more of our time?"<p>

Steve smirked at him before forcing a straight face and redirecting his attention towards the armed officer in the corner, who was there to make sure he didn't try anything stupid. He was armed with a Taser, gun in a holster, and an extra pair of handcuffs— none of which posed much of a threat to Steve. Steve leaned forward to be closer to the guard before whispering a playful, "Wanna know a secret?"

The interrogator rolled his eyes at the kid's antics. He made his distaste clear by inflecting a patronizing tone in his voice as he remarked, "Sure, Leonard. Let's hear your secret."

Steve's glanced up at the man asking the questions out of the corner of his eye before a small smirk appeared on his face. He shook his head adamantly as he responded, "No way, Brucey. I want to talk to the big scary guy in the corner. I trust him more than you."

'Brucey' scowled and shook his head in disgust. He was sick of babysitting this kid; he never did anything but find new ways to annoy the shit out of him. He didn't see why they even bothered with this kid anymore. If it were up to him, they'd be giving him the death penalty before he could even plead guilty. "I always knew you were fucked up, Leonard." He looked over at his weapon-wielding partner and cocked his head towards Steve. "Go on, Rodger. Let the little bastard talk to you."

"I may be a bastard, but I'm loads of fun!" Steve chirped happily. He then casted his gaze over to Rodger before adding, "Are you going to get your ass over here so I can confess, or what?"

As Rodger made his way towards him, Steve stared downwards as though remorseful of his actions. In reality, he was just staring at his handcuffed wrists and trying to contain a grin. His eyebrows rose as he glanced up to look at the man leaning over him, and that was when decided to grate on Brucey's nerves even further. He glanced over at Brucey before bringing his most lethal weapons, his hands, up to his face to shield his mouth from Brucey's view. His composure broke once he'd leaned in close enough to whisper in Rodger's ear, "You're first to die."

Steve then took his hands and clasped them together, leaping to his feet and bringing them down on Rodger's head with his full strength in order to knock him out cold. Before Brucey could even react, Steve had taken the handcuff key out of Rodger's pocket and unlocked his left wrist. Not wanting to waste any precious time, he decided against completely freeing himself before finishing what he'd started. He leaped on Brucey and promptly used his nails to cut his throat. Once the blood began to flow, Steve drank it happily. He hadn't had a drink in days! If he'd waited any longer, he doubted he'd have been able to pull off his attack. He would need all the strength he would get to fight off any oncoming guards, and Brucey was a more than substantial victim. It helped that Steve had hated his guts.

When he was done with Brucey, Steve realized that he didn't have much time left. He quickly snapped Rodger's neck and traded clothes with him, switching out his orange jumpsuit for the guard's uniform. He frowned at the loose fit— he had never been very big, and Rodger was a freaking giant— and gave up on the idea of clothing the huge man in his prisoner uniform. In hindsight, he realized that he should have drunk from Rodger and stolen Brucey's clothes— but that was over and done with. It didn't matter. He was already strolling out of the room casually, as though nothing had happened at all.

He smiled and waved at everyone he passed, whistling a quirky tune as he walked out of the jail without a word from anyone. He was barely able to keep from laughing at the sheer stupidity of the officials; though he was showing his face, nobody seemed to notice or even care. Once he was a few feet from the perimeter of the facility, he allowed himself to laugh. Not only had he, a notorious murderer under intensive observation, managed to walk right through a prison without causing any alarm, but he did it in a uniform about four times his size.

_That was so simple. Humans are such dumbasses._

He heard shouts and alarms begin to toll in the prison, but he merely laughed at their attempts to reel him back in. They were too little, too late. He was long gone, and now that he had refueled his strength and he was on guard they had no chance of stopping him. He rolled his eyes at the minor threat they posed and continued walking at a steady pace, not once bothering to look behind him. They didn't scare him. _He _scared _them._

And he wouldn't want it any other way.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Holy crap, it's been a while. I'm so sorry. And I apologize for this chapter being so short, but I couldn't think of anything else to put! Steve's side of the story poses challenges for me, hahah. I'll try to be better about posting… But I make no promises. I've got a lot going on that totally leaves zero time for A) inspiration and B) writing. I'll try to make the next chapter come sooner though; promise!**_

_**Thank you, by the way, to nikochan23 for reminding me that this Fic even existed hahaha. I appreciate it c:**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author's Note: When Truska speaks, I'm making it in italics and using a different barrier to isolate it from other text just to keep up the appearance that she's speaking her native tongue and nobody but Mikey understands her. Just a little forewarning. C:**_

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><p><em><strong>Review response time! :D<strong>_

—_**Spot'sGalFrom1899 : Ohmygosh, that was fast! I literally died when I saw your review. Thank you so, so much for sticking with me for so long and for still digging this story! You have no idea how much it meant to me to get such great feedback so quickly. Thank you sososososososososo much. C:**_

—_**Nikochan23: If it weren't for you, this would still be dead! So thank you for saving it c: &That's an interesting theory… c; But you see, she's the protagonist, so we have to make her get attached to both guys before anything bad can happen to either one. C: I think I have a general idea of where this story is going to be going, but I'm not **_**entirely **_**sure. But for right now, everything is headed in a direction that I think you'll fancy c:**_

—_**JinxedRonny:**_ _**Oh, yay! I'm glad that you thought I did it well. He's such a great character, and I'm having such a hard time balancing his evil and his hurt and his wit all together. &&I agree… Love triangles are WAY overdone. I don't know how original this one will be… But I guess you'll let me know! C:**_

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><p><em><strong>And now, on with the show!<strong>_

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><p>Michaela was awoken from her nightmare by loud shouts. She curled up further into her blankets, sure that it had been part of her dream. When it became clear that the screams were coming from outside her tent rather than her own imagination, she jolted upright. <em>What the fuck was going on? <em>She had just opened the flap of her tent to walk outside when she was shoved backwards. "Hey!" she shouted as her back hit her hammock.

There were a few buzzing and clicking noises before Michaela was able to actually tune into what Truska was saying. Whereas the first time she'd heard it she didn't even register the difference in languages, she now had to focus in to decipher the meaning behind her speech. In her sleep-induced haze, Michaela was only able to pick up on the last few words— _Stay here._

"What's going on?" Michaela demanded with a scared edge to her voice. The screaming had intensified rather than silenced, and she could feel herself getting more and more apprehensive. The Cirque was supposed to have a show tonight, and Truska, of all people, should be in the tent performing. "Truska, what's happening?"

_[Mr. Crepsley told me to keep you here,]_ Truska responded in an angry shout. She glared down at the younger girl and added, _[__It isn't safe for you.]_

"If it isn't safe for me, it isn't safe for him, either!" Michaela argued, knowing the weakness of her statement even before it was uttered. Mr. Crepsley was a freaking _vampire. _He was immune to a plethora of things that would harm her.

_[Calm down. This will be handled shortly. ]_ Truska moved her arm so that it was no longer restraining Michaela, but didn't go far in case she decided to make a move.

"Yeah, but—" Her argument was cut off by a long howl that she recognized as being the Wolfman's. Her eyes widened and she jolted to her feet. "He's out?"

_[Calm down,]_ Truska repeated sharply. There was a high-pitched yelp from outside, and then all was silent. There were no screams, howling… Neither person in the tent could hear even the slightest whisper. Slowly, noise began returning. Everyone was coming back to the campgrounds, with the crisis behind them.

"Now can I go? Please?" Michaela pleaded. She locked eyes with Truska who, after a grudging moment, nodded her consent.

Michaela burst out of her tent, only to see that just about everyone from the Cirque was roaming around. She weaved her way in and out of people heading towards their tents to the outskirts of the campground. She watched the horizon for a while, waiting to see any signs of residual activity, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She whirled around and was barely able to recognize Evra's face before he pulled her into a hug. "I didn't know where you were! I thought maybe the Wolfman…" His sentence trailed off as he pulled away from the embrace and grinned down at her. "Where's Darren?"

"What do you mean, where's—" Michaela's sentence dropped right alongside her heart. She stared up at Evra's ever-fading smile and said, "Truska wouldn't let me leave the tent! I thought he would be with you."

"I haven't seen him yet," Evra responded, his lips having completed their one-eighty into a frown. He glanced around before suggesting, "Maybe we should go find Mr. Crepsley…"

Michaela nodded her head numbly. She couldn't even begin to fathom the possibility that Darren might not be okay. He was already weak as hell from refusing to drink blood for so long… He wouldn't have the strength to handle the Wolfman normally, let alone now. What if he'd been there when he escaped? What if he—

"Michaela." Evra grabbed her arm and, with it, her attention. He wore a desperate expression as he pleaded urgently, "Let's go find them."

"What happened?" she asked softly as she walked at his side. His hand was still wrapped around her arm, right below her elbow and right above where the worst of her self-harm had taken place once upon a time.

He glanced down at her, noticing for the millionth time the disarray of scars on her arm, and took a deep breath. One day, he would get the courage to ask about them; but that day wasn't going to be today. He hated when her eyes would flood with pain, and she already looked like she was headed towards a breakdown. She always did. "I heard the Wolfman howling and figured he got out. I got up and saw Darren wasn't in his hammock, so I went to find Mr. Tall and he stopped the show and…" He caught her heightened sense of alarm and exclaimed a quick, "But it's quiet now! It's quiet and everybody is coming back. Darren and Mr. Crepsley will be, too."

She nodded slowly and continued walking next to him, moving slightly closer to his reptilian body for support. He glanced down and moved his arm so that it was draped around her shoulders comfortingly when, all of a sudden, Michaela stopped short. He gradually began to retract his arm and was halfway through an apology when he realized what the _real _problem was. Her eyes had landed on the wolfman's cage, and— more importantly— the trail of blood flowing from it.

"Do you want to follow it?" Evra asked softly. Her head once again bobbed up and down, so he stared down at the crimson-colored grass and lead her up the small hill it traveled. Michaela hesitated once they got to the edge of the woods, but found that they didn't have to venture very far into it before they found the source.

"My hands, man! My hands," a low voice croaked from the ground. Michaela looked up at Evra in a silent question of what to do, but he was already rushing to the figure's side.

"R.V.!" Evra cried, kneeling next to where the man had collapsed. "R.V., what happened?"

"Get away from me!" he shrieked, reaching over to push himself backwards. He stopped when his stumped arms hit the ground to howl in pain. "My hands!"

"R.V., what happened to you?" Evra asked softly, though it was blatantly obvious. To Michaela, at least. This smelly guy had had a midnight brush with a monster. More specifically, the Wolfman.

"Get away from me, man!" R.V. repeated, digging his heels into the soil to propel himself from the snake-boy. "You're one of them, man, you're evil!" He noticed Michaela standing over to the side and added a wary, "Who's that, man? Is she one of you? Did she come to finish me off?"

"One of who?" Evra stared at R.V.'s haggard face sadly as he added, "I'm not evil."

"Who's the chick, man?" R.V. shouted once again. He looked around for a weapon to defend himself before recalling that he had no hands to pick whatever he found up with. He gave up on escape or defense and gazed down at his bleeding stumps morosely. "My hands," he whimpered.

"Evra, who is that?" Michaela finally dared to ask, moving closer to the broken and disfigured man. She kneeled down next to Evra and added, "You know him?"

"He used to hang out with me and Sam and Dar—" R.V. began to howl at the mention of Darren, interrupting Evra's explanation.

He calmed down for a little while, just in time to say a belligerent, "He stole my hands, man!" He glared from Evra to Michaela's faces, daring one of them to argue. When Michaela opened her mouth to speak, he began howling again, cutting off her attempt.

The two teenagers stared blankly at each other, wondering what to do about this deranged lunatic. They had no idea how he hadn't died from blood loss yet; the fact that he was still awake and roaring was mind-boggling. Finally, Evra asked a quiet, "Should we go get Mr. Tall?"

"That won't be necessary," a smooth voice said from the shadows. All three of the people on the ground's eyes shot up to where the voice had come from, causing it to chuckle. "Don't be frightened." A man with what seemed to be red hair trailing down to his back stepped out into the moonlight and stared down at the trio emotionlessly. "I'm here to collect R.V.."

"Who are you?" R.V.'s teeth chattered as he spoke, whether from injury or fear was uncertain.

"I am Gannen Harst," the man stated calmly, as though the subject manner was of no interest to him. His facial expression did not change or falter as he addressed the newly-handicapped R.V. with a simple question: "Would you like to come and retrieve your hands?"

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><p><em><strong>AN: From this point on, I'm going to be making these chapters a lot more in-line with the actual stories. I'm re-reading the series, so I'm sure that'll give me ideas as well as keep me on par. However, as I stated in the beginning, there are a few details I'm changing so that they align with the movie. For example, I made Darren and Steve and everyone older, like they were in the movie rather than the books. And Murlough blooded Steve, rather than having Gannen do it later on. At first, the whole "mixing book and movie" thing was just an excuse to be inaccurate and lazy, but now some of that is actually working towards my benefit.**_

_**Once again, thank you all so much for sticking by me!**_

_**In addition; this is probably going to end a lot sooner than I'd originally planned. In the beginning I thought I'd keep this going until Darren and Mr. Crepsley went off to Vampire Mountain, but now that seems sooooo far away. So what I think I'll do is take us through the next book (when they go to New York) and end it after that. **_

_**A million "thank-you"s go to nikochan23 for helping me endlessly with this chapter. c:**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Author's Note: Sorry this took so long... I was sooo dead for inspiration! You guys are so lucky that I have nikochan23 helping to motivate me. Then again... I mean, if you guys reviewed, that'd prolly help too. c;**_

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><p><em><strong>Review response time!<strong>_

—_**Nikochan23: Honey… until like two chapters ago, this didn't even have a storyline! Hahahaha. But thank you! &&you're helping me a lot, so shhh! I have to give you props for it. C:**_

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><p><em><strong>And now, on with the show!<strong>_

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><p>Steve let out an exasperated sigh as he watched the maddened vampaneze walk around him in circles. This had <em>so <em>not been a part of his plan. He was thrilled to have found out he was the Vampaneze Lord, and after a while he was totally okay with keeping it from his people for a little while longer. He was even content to act as though he still worked under Murlough for the time being. The problem was, the madness swimming in his one-time mentor's blood kept him from being able to distinguish between what was real and what was a charade. Steve often found himself being lashed out at and given orders, as though Murlough really _was _he superior. He hadn't signed up for this. Any of it.

But when he'd shown up at the place Mr. Tiny was calling home for the time being, he'd been ordered straight to the sewer system of a large city that Steve had always planned on visiting. Of course, he'd always envisioned himself on the surface of the city, not below it. To add to his frustration, the entire way there, Tiny had ranted on about the flaws in his escape from prison; mainly things he'd known already, such as how he should've drunken from Rodger instead of—

_Brucey. _The thought of the wiry policeman, so serious in his mannerisms and so stuck in his ways, caused a laugh to ripple through Steve. What would he think now, if he saw Steve with Murlough? Then Steve wouldn't be the crazy one. He wouldn't be the "sick son of a bitch". He'd be the sane one, the smart one, the only hope Brucey had.

And Steve would take the chance to kill him, all over again.

Steve was jerked out of his own thoughts by the feel of ragged claws connecting with the back of his skull, leaving him with welts that exactly matched the scars already on his head. _Fuck that. _Steve turned around and threw a sloppy punch at Murlough, not really caring about where or how hard he made contact so long as he did. Within a second he found himself with his cheek shoved against the slimy sewer wall, and his arm pinned behind his back by meaty hands. His strength held no power over the full vampaneze, and he found himself in a position that he assumed was much like that his victims felt.

"You can't hurt me," Steve hissed, stating a matter of fact that would appeal only to the sane side of Murlough. He couldn't help but wonder how smart of a move it would be; how much, if at all, of his mind Murlough had left.

"Murlough can do as he wants, yes? Murlough is strong, he is! Can snap you like a twig! Yes he can!" Murlough let out a hysterical laugh that reminded Steve of his mother's drunken giggles. "Puny half-vampaneze can't stop me, can he? No, no he can't!"

"I didn't mean physically, dimwit," Steve snarled in response. He had no fear of this man— whether that made him brave or was a testament to his wavering mind, he had no idea. "I'm your Lord. You have to listen to me. Tiny'll kill you if you harm even a single hair on my chinny-chin-chin." His arrogance carried him through the sardonic reply, which mocked Murlough's manner of speech and captured his own twisted sense of humor rather nicely.

"And then no more bags of blood for Murlough, hmm?" The vampaneze's grip on Steve alleviated as the stronger of the two hopped backwards and crouched low. "Very well, Stevie. I will let you go, hmm? I won't hurt a hair on your chinny-chin-chin."

"For that to happen, he'll have to grow some," a booming voice commented from the shadows. Both creatures of the night were suddenly alert, and with every reason. Running into somebody in the sewer tunnels underneath a highly populated city wasn't exactly a common event. If they happened upon you, more times than not it meant that they were looking for you. And if they weren't, it meant that a construction worker was turned into a nighttime snack.

However, the former revealed itself to be true as Mr. Tiny stepped into the light. His bright yellow raincoat was darkened with sludge and smog from the air above and the sewage beneath. He glanced back and forth from the two vampaneze before asking of them, "Do you like these accommodations?"

"Yes! No humans to come with pitchforks down here, hmm? Tasty snacks with no attacks following." The crazed lunatic's reply and accompanying giggle made it impossible to hear Steve's grumbled "Fuck no."

"What about you, Steve?" Mr. Tiny's eyes landed on the boy, the look shining in them an indicator that he had heard his answer despite Murlough's noise. "Are you happy in the tunnels?"

"Gee, whiz," the teen responded with false enthusiasm. "It's just swell down here surrounded by crap. I mean, golly, the aroma is just super!"

"Good," Mr. Tiny replied, giving no attention to Steve's sarcastic tone. A smile came over his face, revealing his warm smile that sent chills down every living being's spine. "We wouldn't want our lord to be uncomfortable, now, would we?"

"Of course not," Steve grumbled, averting his eyes. Though his arrogance kept him from being afraid of Murlough, Mr. Tiny was still one he considered not to be messed with. The way he saw it, Mr. Tiny was the one who had helped him achieve his destiny; if it weren't for him, he'd still be at home with his mom reading up on how to kill Crepsley. Vengeance on Darren would be no more than a pipe dream, and his life would go on to be unsuccessful and unfulfilling.

With Mr. Tiny's help, he'd managed to create his reverie into a very real possibility, and had become the Vampaneze Lord. He was the most powerful being alive, other than Tiny himself. The little old man with the chubby face framed with the snow-white hair had proved time and time again that he could take power as quickly as he could give it.

Steve wasn't going down without a fight. He wasn't willing to lose any chance he had at putting an end to Shan, no matter what the cost may be. Mr. Tiny had given him every chance, every opportunity; it was just up to him to meet every standard.

Mr. Tiny was not to be fucked with, and as long as Steve stayed on his good side, neither was he.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took so long… I'm sooo dead on Steve! Nikochan23 is pretty much my driving force in getting shit done, teehee. But today I got a million ideas for when they're in Crepsley's hometown, so I figured to get there I have to write this! But anyways, they'll probably be on their way next chapter. Maybe. We'll see c;**_

_**Thank you so much for reading! C:**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Author's Note: I have no excuse for my extended absence or the (lack of) quality of this chapter. Steve's will be next and up soon; while I have totally died on Mikey and Darren, I'm filled with ideas for Steve. So it won't be a long wait.**_

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><p><em><strong>Review Response Time!<strong>_

_**-The Vampaneze Alchemist: I'm updating, I'm updating! Four months after your review… But it has arrived!**_

_**-Nikochan23: YAAAAAY! But your ultimatum sucks. I think you'll like the next few chapters though… I'm debating skipping a few chapters that have Darren in them to focus more on Steve until we get to the part you're so anxiously awaiting. Thoughts?**_

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><p><em><strong>And now… on with the show!<strong>_

Michaela and Evra were halfway back down the hill when Michaela froze, turning towards the green-skinned boy next to her. "Who do you think that was?" she asked softly, her voice wavering. Her eyes flew from the ground to her face before adding, "I mean… how did he know where we were? And even if he just happened to be there, what kind of freak just hangs out in the woods?"

"Maybe he was a vampire," Evra suggested softly. He noticed the way her body was trembling and once again draped his arm over her shoulder. He paused to consider his words, and a troubled frown came over his face. "Or maybe he was—"

Michaela's attention switched from Evra's proposal over to the figure approaching them. For a moment she feared it was Gannen, coming to finish them off like she suspected he'd done to R.V., but then he stepped into a patch of moonlight and his red cape was revealed. "Larten!" she cried, cutting off Evra's thought process. She ran up to the red-haired vampire and wrapped her arms around his middle, burying her face in his chest and holding on tight.

Mr. Crepsley's eyes flew over to Evra, who was jogging over at a steady pace opposed to Michaela's previous sprint. When the questioning look in Crepsley's eyes bid him to explain, the words flew out of Evra's mouth with a calmness that surprised him more than anyone. "We came out here to find Darren. We followed a trail of blood into the woods and found R.V., with his hands bit clean off. He kept screaming, and we tried to talk to him, but…" Evra cleared his throat and got right to the point, deciding against elaborating the details that weren't going to haunt him. "A guy, I think he said his name was Gannen, was in the woods. He took R.V., and..."

Michaela jumped in where Evra trailed off to exclaim, "Larten, he was so scary! And all that blood… I've never seen so much of it in my life." She shuddered at the memory, knowing that it was one of many that would remain imprinted on her mind.

Crepsley pulled away from Michaela and held her at arm's length, studying her face in order to properly gauge how much fear she was experiencing. When he saw that she was only shaken, he looked up at Evra and stated, "Take Michaela back to her tent, yes? You can drop by to visit Darren but if he is sleeping then you must let him be. Once Michaela is situated, Evra, you can come and tell Mr. Tall and myself what you saw. Understood?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Crepsley," Evra agreed, walking past the old vampire and knowing Michaela would follow him. Once the girl was at his side, he grinned and boasted, "I told you that you shouldn't have worried!"

"No, you didn't!" she exclaimed indignantly. "You were shaking in your scales, don't even try to deny it." She watched him struggle to come up with a valid response, and let out a laugh when she saw a look of defeat cross his face.

"I was just… trying to make you feel better," he grumbled weakly, knowing that his excuse would not be sufficient enough to prove to her his manliness.

Michaela forced herself to contain her laughter this time around and instead patted his shoulder in a mock-comforting fashion. They had just come up to Darren's tent, and the duo silenced their banter as they entered.

Darren was lying on his hammock, resting on his side with his knees slightly bent. His eyes were closed and his lips parted, announcing to the world that he snored when he slept. Evra's hand began to guide Michaela out of the tent, but she shook her head. "I'm going to stay here for a bit," she whispered softly. Her eyes followed Evra out before landing back on her friend's sleeping form, smiling at the innocence. Judging by his face right now, you'd have never guessed what he'd just gone through.

A few minutes passed before she felt herself grow weary, just as she assumed Evra was doing. She leaned back and sat against the wall to get comfortable, but soon felt goosebumps running over her body. Without a second thought, she got up and walked over to Darren, climbing into his hammock and lying down beside him. His body shifted to allow more room for hers, and she moved closer into him in order to warm herself up.

What felt like mere seconds after she'd closed her eyes, she felt Darren begin to stir. She turned over so that she was on her back and looked at him. He was laying on his side, propping his head up with his hand. He was looking down at her and frowning, but managed a small smile when her gaze met his. "When did you get here?"

"I came in to check on you, and I got cold," she admitted. She brushed a lock of hair out of his face and inquired, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he lied, but when he saw the knowing look in her eyes, he let out a defeated sigh. All pretense left him, and his face fell flat. "The Wolfman…" A single tear fell from his eye, but he quickly swatted it away.

"Let it out." The corner of her lips twitched upwards in a manner that was supposed to be reassuring, and she brushed the next tear off of his cheek before it fell. "It's okay to not be okay."

"But… but I'm alive," he protested weakly, his brave façade depleting more and more as he spoke. "And Sam… he isn't. All because of me. And do you know… do you know what I did?" When the only response he got was a stare, he continued, "I drank from him. I drank from him and I killed him, and he's gone 'cause I was too selfish to be lonely."

"Darren, you weren't being selfish. He would've died even if you didn't drink a single drop of his blood. I remember…" She shut her eyes, stirring up a memory from the short time she'd spent with Murlough. "Murlough said that when the vampaneze kill, they keep people's spirits alive." Her eyes flashed open as she went on, "That's all you did. So you saved him, in a way." He remained silent, lost in his own pained thoughts, so she went on voicing her own. "To be honest, I'm just happy you're still here. You were so weak from not drinking, and then when I heard that the Wolfman was out, and I couldn't find you, and I saw all the blood, I thought—"

"I'm sorry," Darren apologized immediately. His gaze softened, and he repositioned himself so that they were in an embrace. "I'm so, so sorry."

She nodded into his shoulder, not saying anything. She had nothing _to _say. All she could think about was his arms, the new strength that flowed through them that made this hug so much different than the ones he'd given her in the months past. Their embrace lasted until they heard a cough from the entryway, at which point they separated and looked towards the figure standing there.

They had to squint through the darkness in order to make out the identity of their visitor. It turned out to be Mr. Crepsley, perplexed as ever and not in the mood to deal with the two teenagers. "I have allowed you to rest long enough. It is time to move the Cirque."

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><p><em><strong>AN: So, I apologize sincerely, because the end of this is so not up to par. I just got completely dead on ideas for this chapter and wanted to wrap it up so that I could finally get an update in. I also skimped on proofreading... Whoopsy!**_

_** I promise the next chapter will be better. I've already started it so it should be up within the week...**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**Author's Note: This took me longer than expected to get up here… whoops. I apologize immensely for that. But, it wasn't more than a month, so yay! I think? C: **_

_**In addition, I don't believe that Steve was ever given a birthday, so I just made one up off the top of my head. If I'm incorrect and he does have a birthday, please feel free to tell me. C:**_

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><p><em><strong>Review response time~<strong>_

_**-Loki's Little Sister: AH! That's awesome! Thank you so much, and I promise I'll try to be better about updating!**_

_**-The Vampaneze Alchemist: I promise I'll try to be better about updating, thank you so much for bearing with me! And a big big BIG thank you for directing your sister to me :DD**_

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><p>"—And I just have to face the fact that my baby boy is not coming back any time soon."<p>

Steve froze in his tracks when he heard the voice, so familiar, so haunting. He whipped his head around to face it, only to find that the scratchy falsetto had come from a display of television sets. His mother was being featured on some talk show, selling herself to the nation with her false tears. Every once in a while her eyes would meet with the host's in a fashion that Steve remembered well— it was the same look she and her various boyfriends had shared whenever he'd been around, the one that meant that whichever man met her gaze was well on his way to becoming the newest addition to her long line of affairs.

"Repulsive." Steve muttered the insult under his breath, forcing himself to return his attention to the television when he saw that it was his mother's turn to speak again.

"I know he's a psychopath. He has such deep-rooted issues, and I just…" His mother trailed off, shaking her head and taking a moment to compose herself before going on. "I'm sorry. I feel like I failed him, in a way. I know it's not my fault, that he has a severe need for mental help, but I just... I can't help but think that maybe I could have done something."

_Actually, you're right, asshole. _An uncontrollable scowl overcame Steve's face as his mother played the role of victim perfectly, her performance so convincing that it almost fooled Steve. She'd had plenty of practice pretending to care over the past few months. _You _could've _done something. You could've been a fucking mother instead of a whore._

"Well, I assure you— this is in no way your fault." The host reached over and placed his hand on top of Ms. Leonard's. A predatory smirk played on the corner of her lips for a brief moment before reverting to its previous state of false sadness, the only crack in her act thus far. Steve couldn't help but wonder how many viewers had noticed it, if any, and out of those few which would know the meaning behind it. He wondered if anybody could see through her, or if he was the only one who knew what she really was. "Your son has deep psychological issues, and nobody could have ever predicted that they would show in this manner. I am deeply sorry for your loss, and for the losses of all of Mr. Leonard's victims."

_Nobody could have predicted it? _Steve's aggravation expanded to include both his mother and the show host, who so clearly bought every lie that she'd been spewing. _Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. _His fingers dug into his palm, drawing blood. _My mother has been telling me since I was a child that I was psychotic– I just got sick of trying to prove her wrong._

Steve finally got fed up with his mother's bullshit performance and turned away from the television, pulling his nails out from his skin and wiping the blood on his pants. Anger simmered inside of him, turning his stomach and making his face heat up— his mother was so fucking full of it. He was so sick of watching her feign concern and sadness and love for him. It was nauseating how quickly she could put on the masks of everything he had once wanted her to display so badly.

Now, he wanted absolutely nothing from her. He wanted her gone. And pretty soon, she would be.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Steve found himself in an electronics store. There was immediately a small video camera in his hand, and he was making his way to the front of the store. None of the cries of "Excuse me, sir" or "Sir, you need to pay for that" reached his ears. He ignored the alarms that sounded and snapped the wrists of any and all hands that dared clasp around his arm, and within seconds, he was gone. _Just like my mother will be, soon enough. _He smirked as he broke out into a sprint, stopping only once he'd reached an Internet café on the opposite side of town. He stared down at the hard plastic case surrounding the video camera's box and dug his nails into it, pulling out a large chunk of its one side before chipping away a large enough hole to pull the box out of. He studied the camera blankly before hitting the red record button and turning the camera to focus on himself.

"Hello, Mother. It's your _baby boy… _Stevie." A smirk twisted up the corners of his lips before they fell away to remove all traces of emotion. "Now, you might be wondering why I'm making you a video. Truth be told, it's just another one of my reckless impulses coming to fruition— but you know all about those, don't you?" His impassive face gave way to an angry snarl, the emotion so strong that he could barely speak through it. "Here's the deal. I'm sick of watching you bullshit your way on to television. Your fake sadness, confusion, disappointment— it's nauseating. I grew into exactly what you raised me to be, so don't even bother trying to say otherwise. I won't give you that chance. And if you're lost, have no idea what I'm talking about, go through our old family videos. I'm sure that'll jump-start your memory. Broken Steve, bloodied Steve, bruised Steve– the only thing you'll be missing is happy Steve." He bit his lip and sadness began to take precedence over anger as he went on coarsely, "You've been telling me all my life that all I would grow up to be is a criminal. So stop the fake concern, sadness, and above all the fake fucking loving mother act. You're making me sick." He paused again, clearing away the sadness. This was the part he'd been waiting for. "And to help you in your search for authenticity, I'm going to instill in you a real emotion, one that I hope strikes you to your core: fear." A smile exploded onto his face and a small laugh escaped him as he finished, "You're next."

He stopped filming and strolled into the café, sitting down at a computer and plugging his stolen camera into it. There was exactly one file on it, and approximately seven billion people he wanted to see it. He logged into his old YouTube account, grinning when he got the password right on the first try. His smile widened even further when he saw what his account consisted of. There was video after video of soccer-related stunts, all starring either himself or Darren attempting to perform something they'd seen done on television. The videos all ranged from ages eleven to fourteen, except—

_What's this? _Steve frowned and clicked on a video that was time-stamped two and a half minutes. The cover photo was nothing but a black box, and it was the only one that hadn't been submitted for the world to see. He checked the date— he had been just barely seventeen when it was filmed. So why did he have no recollection of it? He clicked the link and glared at it, his gaze immediately softening when a familiar voice reached his ears.

_ The screen was completely black as the video began, a girl's voice cutting through the silence. "Steve, I'm not doing this. Put the camera away."_

_You could practically hear the mock pout in Steve's voice as he pleaded, "Come on! Please? For me?"_

_ "I thought Darren was supposed to be the film major!" Michaela's hand retracted from the camera lens, revealing the setting of the video. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of Steve's bedroom, in her favorite Scooby Doo pajama pants and black camisole. "Steve, I'm not even dressed. Can't we wait until morning, after I've made myself at least somewhat presentable?"_

_ "If you weren't dressed, then this would be a different video entirely," he said solemnly. His laugh came from behind the camera in response to the scowl that immediately glued itself to her face. "Besides— in the morning, it won't be my birthday anymore, and I won't be able to guilt you into this. You look fine, I promise." _

_ The scowl remained on Michaela's face as she grumbled, "Well, you have a biased opinion." She crossed her arms over her chest for emphasis before elaborating, "You're my boyfriend. You aren't allowed to say you think I'm ugly."_

_ "True," Steve admitted after a moment's thought, "But if you were ugly, I wouldn't be dating you." His laugh once again filled the room as Michaela leaped forward to hit him. The camera shook as Steve fell over, and as the struggle continued the frame became all the more mobile. "Okay, okay!" he exclaimed. "At least let me put the camera down before you kill me." Michaela got off of him and allowed him to put the camera down— _If Steve recalled correctly, he'd placed it on his desk— _before instructing, "Get in front of it."_

_ "Steve! I'm not going to—"_

_ "Oh, come _on! _You promised." The grin could be heard in his voice as he went on, "Besides, when my mom's prophecies come true and I'm old and alone, I'm going to need some sort of proof that there was a time—"_

_ "Ugh, fine!" Michaela moved in front of the camera, her waist cutting off the view of Steve's bedroom. She kneeled so that she was eye-level with the camera and stated a patronizing, "I, Michaela Frieland, on this fifth night of March, proudly proclaim my love for Steven Leonard." Her eyes shifted off-camera to look at Steve and inquired, "Happy?"_

_ He responded by taking one long stride towards her and pressing his lips to hers. She laughed against his kiss— it was so typical of Steve to attack her rather than just give her a simple 'yes'— and allowed him to guide her down to the floor. One of her legs bent so that her knee was against his side, and his arm came around to hold it closer to him. Her hand went up to hold his face, but just as his mouth began to move from her lips to her neck, she cut him off. "Steve—"_

_ "I know, I know," he murmured into her neck. He kissed her lightly, his lips lingering against her skin before he pulled backwards, turning off the camera and ending the video._

Steve stared blankly at the screen long after the video had ended. _Michaela. _Oh, God, Michaela. It had been so long since he last saw her laugh like that, since she'd last kissed him like that. If he thought back hard enough, he could remember—

_Darren. _The king of all assholes himself, in Steve's spot in her bed, his arm wrapped around her like he had the fucking right to be there. Like he wasn't betraying his supposed 'best friend' once again by doing so.

Steve suppressed a cry of rage in favor for a small grunt. He checked that his video for his mother had successfully uploaded and jerked away from the computer, knowing that his job was finished. Well… _almost _finished. All he had left to do was mail the camera itself to his mother, which would prove to be problematic because—

A grin lit up his face as he realized the one thing he'd previously overlooked. Sure, he had to stay in the sewers with Murlough. Sure, Tiny's orders were law. But Tiny had never said anything about taking a field trip. Tiny had always been big on nostalgia, and was sure to understand Steve visiting home.

Steve was going to hand-deliver his message to his mother personally.

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><p><em><strong>AN: And there you have it! I love Steve so much. Unf. Let me know if you do too? c:**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Author's Note: So, Gavner is one of my favorite people ever to appear in this series (I have a lot of them actually… hmm), and I had to throw him in somewhere. I love love love him. If things go the way I'm planning there should be about five chapters left until the conclusion of this fic... which is outstanding, because I really want to get where I'm going with this. Plus Nikki (nikochan23, for those of you who don't know) TOTALLY owes me when I get to the climax, assuming the ultimatum still stands of course c:**_

_**In addition, I wrote this chapter to parallel chapter two in Cirque du Freak: Tunnels of Blood, so if the characters of Darren or Larten shift slightly it's because I'm trying to keep it as close to the original text as possible, with the exception of Michaela's presence of course. Speaking of which, I'll be mainly following her because I don't want to wind up just rewriting scenes. So please bear with me while I figure this out, I'm not accustomed to writing with the actual book next to me. Thank you c:**_

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><p><em><strong>Review Response Time:<strong>_

—_**Nikochan23: Literally, completely agree. As for whether or not he gets her… we'll soon see c; I actually haven't completely decided what to do with her… Hmmm. But anyways, I love you long time, and miss you lots, and and and-**_

_**On with the show!**_

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><p>"I can't believe it didn't work!" Darren whined after yet another failed attempt at telekinesis. Michaela fought the urge to let out a chuckle; she had been sitting out by the mill with him for quite some time, watching him try and move the cross by simply yelling at it. Michaela had, from the beginning, known that it was just a trick that Mr. Crepsley had mastered during his time with the Cirque— but Darren had been so excited about the possibility of being able to move objects with his mind that she didn't have the heart to break it to him.<p>

Darren shuffled forward, growing frustrated rather than discouraged by his inability to move the cross he'd found. "I command you to move," he growled, snapping his fingers.

Michaela raised her eyebrows and, for the first time, tried to interrupt him. She could see that he was beginning to grow genuinely upset, and she felt that it was finally time to reveal to him what she knew to be true. "Dare—"

"Michaela, I can _do this,_" he snapped, causing her to fall silent. He once again clicked his fingers together in one final try. "I order you to move."_ Click_. "Move." No dice. _Click_. "_Move!_"

"What are you doing?" The voice came from behind Michaela, causing her to jump. A familiar hand settled on her shoulder and relaxed her just in time to hear Darren's sheepish response.

"Nothing…" He tried to hide the cross he was practicing with in the palm of his hand, but it was slightly too large, and one of the corners stuck out from underneath his thumb.

After that, time flew by quickly. Mr. Crepsley demonstrated his trick for Darren, and the look on the latter's face was priceless— the amount of pride he felt in discovering that it was an illusion brought a grin to Michaela's face. Darren was nearly eighteen and hardened by the burden of being a half-vampire, and yet he still managed to get excited over little things like this. Michaela's eyes remained trained on Darren's face, lit up with childish curiosity as Mr. Crepsley explained some of the little perks of being a vampire— illusions, opening locks, that sort of thing. Michaela was so busy marveling his innocence that she didn't notice the man creeping up on them until there were blades at both of the boys' necks.

Michaela froze, the concept of losing both her best friend and makeshift father figure in one swift movement immobilizing her. The fear that coursed through her veins was so potent that she heard nothing up until Mr. Crepsley's exasperated sigh filled the air. "Gavner, Gavner, Gavner," he chided. He used his hand to push the knife away from his throat, as though this was a casual occurrence and his life had never really been in any danger. "I always could hear you coming from half a mile away."

"Not true!" The man, apparently named Gavner, retracted both knives, returning them to their individual places before going on to defend himself. "You couldn't have heard."

"Why not?" Mr. Crepsley challenged immediately. "Nobody in the world breathes as heavily as you. I could pick you out blindfolded in a crowd of thousands."

Gavner's brows furrowed and a scowl grew on his lips as he muttered, "One night, Larten." His eyes flashed up to Mr. Crepsley's as he went on, "One night I'll surprise you. We'll see how smart you are then."

Mr. Crepsley let out a laugh at the man's expense, a grin settling on his face. "Upon that night I shall retire in disgrace." Once the comment had passed his lips, signifying the end of their exchange, Mr. Crepsley glanced around, finally recalling that his assistant and Michaela were both still present. They were both still stiff with fear, though Darren seemed to be recovering faster than Michaela. Mr. Crepsley moved over to rest a hand comfortingly on Michaela's shoulder for the second time that night before shooting a look at Gavner. "Shame on you, Gavner. You have frightened the children."

"Seems all I'm good for," Gavner agreed with a small pretense sigh. "Scaring children and little old ladies." His eyes landed on Michaela, scrutinizing her appearance. "Though you do not seem to fit either category."

Both teenagers stared at Gavner blankly, examining him just as he'd done to Michaela. He was taller than Darren but shorter than Larten, and wider than the two put together. His attire was normal enough, but his face was covered in the remnants of battle wounds, and his teeth were a bright shade of yellow. His fingertips each had a scar, marking him as yet another vampire who did not fit the stereotypical terrifying description. He seemed friendly enough, though not the kind of friend either teen would expect Mr. Crepsley to have.

"Darren, Michaela, this is Gavner Purl— an old, trust, rather clumsy friend." He gestured to each of his three companions in turn, stopping on the newcomer. "Gavner, these are Darren Shan and Michaela Freiland."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady," Gavner said with a bow. He kissed Michaela's hand, earning himself a scowl from Darren and a chuckle from Mr. Crepsley. Once he stood fully erect, he moved to shake Darren's hand as well. "And yours as well. _You _didn't hear me coming, did you?"

"Uh-uh," Darren answered begrudgingly. He'd been so focused on learning the tricks of the vampire trade that he had forgotten Michaela's existence, let alone the presence of an unannounced vampire.

"There!" Gavner exploded. Pride was evident in his voice, as though deceiving the young vampire was an admirable feat. "See?"

"Congratulations," Mr. Crepsley deadpanned. "If you are ever called upon to sneak into a nursery, you should have no problems." He redirected his attention to the girl next to him, whose heart was still beating slightly faster than its usual pace. He had a feeling that it would be a while before she calmed down. "Michaela, why do you not go find Evra? I am sure he could use some help setting up for his act."

"Oh, I get it," she said sarcastically, a small grin on her face. "It's time for the manly men to talk about big boy things. Whatever." She stood, planting a kiss on Mr. Crepsley's scar before departing. "Bye, Larten. Darren. Nice to meet you Gavner."

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><p>"He didn't know you were a vampire?" Michaela whispered in surprise. She always assumed that Darren's vampirism was relatively well-known. It had never occurred to her that Darren's existence might be a secret, or that Mr. Crepsley could potentially get in trouble for having blooded him.<p>

"Nope." Darren's eyes shifted over to a bare wall of the room they were in, focusing on a spider crawling down it. "They were talking about Crepsley being judged at the next Council or something like that. I don't know. Gavner flipped out when he found out I was a vampire— he calmed down a little when he found out that you were still human, though."

"But if you're not supposed to have been blooded—" Michaela paused, trying to find a way to word what she felt without instilling fear into Darren, as well. "They're not going to do anything to you, right, Darren? I mean… you'll be safe? Both of you?"

"I— I dunno." His gaze returned to Michaela's face. The worry she felt was written all along it, and Darren reached over to grab her hand. "Hey. We'll be fine, okay? I'm not going any—"

"Darren?" Both heads spun to look at Gavner, who had just appeared at the door of the room. "Oh, and hello, Michaela." He then turned his attention back to Darren. "Would you care to take a walk with me?"

Sensing his incoming refusal, Michaela jumped in to answer for him. "He would love to." A grin appeared on her face as she increased her pressure on his hand, letting him know that she would be fine without him. "Go. I'm sure Evra could use my help with his snake."

After a long pause for deliberation, Darren finally nodded his consent. He got to his feet and dropped a kiss on her forehead before departing with Gavner. Once he was out of her line of vision, she rose as well, going in the opposite direction in order to find Evra.

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><p><em><strong>AN: So, this was significantly shorter than I'd anticipated, mostly because I was dead for a good three-fourths of it. I apologize for that! There were a lot of filler scenes in the beginning of this book where Michaela would just not fit in, and being as you guys have read the books already I saw no need in rewriting them. (Plus, let's be real, there's no way I'd ever outshine Darren Shan.) Next chapter is back to Stevieboy, and the one following is going to be Michaela, Evra, and Darren's introduction to the city. See you guys soon!**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Author's Note: Whoa… this took a while. My b my b. I had no computer access for quite some time (my harddrive decided to crap out on me, I had to pay $250 to fix this bullshit laptop!) and then Cablevision sucks so I had no internet connection for a while. BUT everything got fixed just in time for me to start my junior year, and as we all know, school means procrastination, and procrastination means new fanfic chapters! Yay!**_

_**Also, I don't think they ever gave Steve's mom a first name, so I'm giving her one. If either I made one up in the past and forgot about it or I'm incorrect and she has one, please let me know! Thank you c:**_

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><p><em><strong>Review Response Time!<strong>_

_**-nikochan23: It's coming, I swear! I give it roughly five chapters before this story is a-closed. Just you wait chiquita, just you wait c:**_

_**-nooneneedstoknow: Oh, believe me, there is PLENTY of Michaela/Steve drama coming your way! Those two are just baaad news c:**_

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><p><em>In. Out. <em>Steve exhaled heavily as he stared at his one-time home. He had hated it there, he always had, but he knew the place like the back of his hand. The faulty locks on the windows, the hole in the front step, the creaks in the floorboard. He had been able to sneak in and out of his house with no problem as a kid, and with his heightened senses, it was sure to be even simpler. In the window, up the stairs, kill the bitch.

_Simple._

He had no reason to be nervous. He assured himself that he wasn't. His sweaty palms, his accelerated heartbeat- they were all products of anticipation. _Excitement, not nerves. _This day was one he had fantasized about for quite some time, and finally, he would be rid of the bane of his existence.

Steve stared at the house from where he sat in a tree near the street. The video he'd uploaded for his mother had gone viral, and as a result, there was a police car parked outside of his mother's house. It had been a month and a half since he'd posted it; snow was now falling from the sky, and her protection had dwindled down to one lowly officer. He'd had plenty of time to meditate over it. He knew exactly what to do and how to get it done- the only thing left was for him to act on his plans.

His eyes closed and he took one last deep breath before he leaped out of the tree. He landed at its base with a soft thud, quickly slinking around the side of the lawn to get to the back of his house. It was a quick shimmy up the drain pipe to get to the window of what had once been his room. He yanked up the window, climbed inside, and-

Nostalgia overwhelmed him as he stepped into his old bedroom. Things were scattered around, showing that people had been through his things, but that was to be expected, and it did nothing to hinder the overwhelming wave of memories that now flooded him. An unseen force drew him to his desk, and he found himself staring down at a picture of himself and Michaela.

The same longing that hit him when he'd watched his birthday video once again crept up upon him, and the frame made its way into his hand. _Michaela, Michaela, Michaela. _He tried to count the days that had passed since he'd last seen her and found that he couldn't. He smiled at the crazy coloring her hair once had- the blue, red, and purple was every bit as ridiculous in picture as in person. He remembered frequently teasing her for the splashes of neon that highlighted her white-blonde hair, and wondered what she looked like now. He'd been too preoccupied with rage to fully take in her presence the last time he'd seen her, but he recalled that she'd looked healthier than she had the time he'd spent the night with her.

_Did Darren have something to do with that?_

The very notion of Darren holding Michaela the way he once had made Steve's body shake. He slammed down the picture frame onto the desk, ignoring the loud bang and the glass that shattered. There was a long pause when he realized the possibility that he may have drawn attention to himself, but after several moments of strained silence, he knew he hadn't been detected.

With one last glance down at the photograph, he opened the door to his room and headed down the hall. _Back on task, Steve. _He slunk into his mother's bedroom silently, making his way towards the bed without a sound. He could see a shape next to her, which was not surprising; there was rarely a night when she was not either out or with someone. He couldn't help but let out an audible groan when he saw the police uniform sprawled on the floor next to the bed.

His mother slowly stirred upon his noise, but the police officer jolted upright. His head whipped around the scan the darkness of the room. Rather than hide within the shadows, Steve made his presence known with a disgusted scowl. "Really?" he demanded.

"Oh, my god," the cop breathed, reaching over to the ground to get his gun.

Steve snapped his foot out to connect with the man's hand, hearing a satisfying snapping of bones. "Shooting someone's kid after sleeping with them is a no-no," he chided the policeman. He then leaned down and picked up the gun, examining it with his hands. "Huh," he commented. "Never used one of these before." He grinned at the man next to his mother and added, "Up for some target practice?"

"Lucille," he said urgently. Steve's mother turned over and let out a yawn in response to his cry for help.

"She's always been a slow waker," Steve informed the officer helpfully. He leaped over the edge of the bed and sat cross-legged at its foot. "Don't worry, she can wait her turn."

"For God's fucking sake, Dale-" His mom's eyes finally opened at the jostling of her bed, and she froze when her eyes settled on Steve.

"See?" A grin spread across his face as he gestured towards her with the gun. "I told you she'd get up. Do I know my mother, or what?"

"Steve, what the flying fuck are you doing here?" his mother demanded in an angry whisper. He knew her; she was terrified, and anger was the quickest way to cover that up. It was one of the many things he'd regretfully inherited from her.

"Didn't you see my video?" he asked innocently. When he saw recognition flash across her face, he let out a mock pout. "Aren't you glad to have me home? You're always talking about how much you miss your son. I'm just trying to make amends."

"You're not my son," she said coldly.

"Ouch," Steve finally decided. He shrugged it off and added, "That would hurt, if I wasn't so used to hearing that." He paused before informing her, "By the way, it's true. The camera really _does _add ten pounds."

The cop leaped towards Steve, reaching for his gun. "You sick son of a-" Steve could tell that he expected to have an element of surprise; had Steve been human, the sudden attack might have worked. But the vampaneze blood coursing through his veins gave him lightning-fast reflexes, and no human would ever be able to sneak up on him again. Steve merely grabbed the man's good hand and crushed it in his.

"I told my mother she was next," he growled, squeezing until he could feel the bones crumble within his grip. The cop gasped in pain as his hand was then forced backwards, snapping his wrist as well. Steve shoved his hand back to him as he added, "Don't make me a liar."

His mother began to quake at the sight of her son's apparent superhuman strength. She no longer had a man to defend her; he was too busy cradling his hand against his chest to be concerned with her safety. Steve shook his head in mock disappointment. "The city's finest."

"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" she wavered. She scanned his face and tried a weak, "You wouldn't hurt your mother, would you?"

"I don't know." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, as though he genuinely had to ponder her question. He finally settled on a shrug as he told her, "But then again, I'm not your son- so it really doesn't matter, does it?"

She began to shake, and he pushed the gun at her. When she made no move to grab it, he grabbed her hands and placed them around the grip. The barrel was pressed against her forehead as he informed her, "It's your choice."

She immediately pulled the trigger, causing Steve to scowl in disgust. He ripped it from her grasp and snapped, "I had the safety on, you asshole. Are you really that easy? You're willing to go down without even the slightest hint of a fight?" He shook his head and threw the gun across the room, putting a hole in the wall in the process. "That's pathetic. I didn't cross the entire country for you to just give up."

She sat there, trembling, and Steve let out a sigh. "This is so anticlimactic," he complained. He gestured to the cop and went on, "At least your fuck buddy tried _something!_ I mean, I knew this would be easy, but I was expecting _some _sort of rebuttal. A battle of wit, an attempt to stop me, the cavalry's arrival- _something!_"

"Sorry to disappoint," came her simple response.

"That's what I'm talking about!" he said, slightly encouraged. He grinned at her and nudged her with his knee. "Keep it rolling."

Her eyes were open wider than he'd ever seen them as she stared at her son incredulously. His smile did not waver as he patiently waited for her to come out with another remark at his expense. Finally, she breathed out a simple, "You're really fucked up, aren't you?"

"Fucked up?" Steve contemplated the phrase. It had been used to describe him on a great number of occasions, but he had never actually stopped to consider how well it applied. After a little while, he finally came to a consensus. "Well, come to think of it, I suppose I might be. But I like to believe in nurture over nature. It's not your fault that you're a drunken whore, and it's not my fault I kill people."

The cop finally got a grip on his injuries and forced himself to call out the obvious flaw in Steve's reply. "You can't compare the two. What you do is illegal. You take lives, Steven. Under no circumstance is that okay."

"Now, here's the thing about that," Steve countered. "You were just about to kill me. You were ready to put a bullet through me before I broke your hands. A little hypocritical, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't have killed you," he replied. Steve could hear the strain in his voice, and knew how difficult it was for him to speak through the pain. "I wouldn't have shot unless I was forced. And even then I would have only disabled you."

"And you should know that a little bullet through my shoulder or knee wouldn't have stopped me. It only would've made me very, very angry, and I would have no choice but to kill you." He scowled at the incredulous gaze the cop aimed his way and added, "Don't give me that look."

"You're going to kill us anyway." His mother's fear began to subside as her anger increased, and suddenly, she was nothing but shrill indignation. "You're getting a sick pleasure out of this, out of seeing an innocent man in pain and your mother cowering in fear. You're savoring the moment, and you're going to kill us regardless of what we say or do! Don't give this man the illusion of hope- you're just waiting to strike him down! I can see it in your eyes, Steve, the same disgusting maniacal look you used to get whenever you hit your friends. You thought that just because my boyfriends disciplined you, you had the right to do it to other people, and I'll bet this is some fucked-up continuation of that. Well, guess what Steve? You're still nothing but the same, immature, failure of a son that you were before you left. And you don't scare me! You're nothing but a bully, and I for one-"

Steve snapped out his arm, slitting her throat with his nails in one quick movement. He watched the blood pour out of the wound he'd inflicted, heard her voice cut off, saw her fall back from the force. She would die the same way she'd lived most of her life: on her back. The rage soon fell from his face as he gained his composure and turned to the officer. "I'm very tired of hearing her say I'm a defective," he explained. He saw the mortified look on the officer's face, and went on to explain. "She was wrong, you know. I'm not going to kill you. I like you. You've got spunk." He winked at the officer and got to his feet, hopping backwards off the bed with ease. "I'm sure they'll overlook the fact that you fucked the person you're supposed to protect on the job, considering you survived. Feel free to play up your bravery."

"You're a snarky little bastard," the officer breathed.

Steve nodded his head in agreement. "I get that a lot," he admitted, not bothering to face the man he was addressing. He made his way out the same way he'd come in, grabbing the picture he'd smashed off of his desk before departing.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: So this took forever? I'm sorry about that. I had it written up and then kept forgetting to bring it on my computer to make it **_**not **_**suck. Also, I changed Debbie's storyline (how Darren met her, that sort of thing- not her role in the story) to better suit my purposes. Since this did take so long for me to upload, I kept adding to it, and adding to it, and adding to it… so it's ridiculously long and could probably afford to be broken into two chapters. Oops. But anywho, here we are! There's probably going to be about two more chapters in this, plus an epilogue.**

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><p><strong>Review Responses:<strong>

**-Nikochan23: Right? I love Steve. And your part is coming up soon… VERY soon. As in, next chapter. ;)**

**-Nooneneeds2know: "Choose" is such an… interpretative word. You'll see where she ends up very soon :)**

**-Animefangirl13.2006: I'm glad you like it and I'm sorry this took so long!**

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><p>Darren ran to the window of the hotel room, staring out at the white flakes falling from the sky and floating gently to the earth, just beginning to cover its surface. "It's snowing!" He lit up with childish glee, turning around to face his traveling companions and ask, "Want to build a snowman?!"<p>

"Uh… no." When Darren's face fell, Ezra crossed his arms, quick to defend himself. "Cold-blooded, remember? Snakes don't do winter."

"So bundle up!" When the suggestion didn't faze Ezra in the slightest, he glanced over at Michaela, who had collapsed on the couch next to him. He quickly went back to trying to persuade Ezra. "Come on, please? I don't need a coat. You can wear mine!"

"And how are the little kids already out there going to react to my scales?" His forehead rose where his eyebrows would be if he had them. "Do you think they'll run and scream? Or will they try to play with us while their parents call animal control?"

"You can wear a scarf. And gloves. You'll be warmer that way, anyway!" Darren frowned, realising that his friend was completely set on his decision. Once again, he turned to Michaela and added a hopeful, "Mikey?"

"We just came so far. I don't want to do any more walking."

The weak excuse caused Darren to scowl. He glanced over towards the kitchen, where Mr. Crepsley was getting himself set up with all of his collapsible cookware. "Crepsley?"

He didn't even bother to turn around as he reminded his apprentice of his inhibition. "Sunlight."

"You guys are the worst." Absolutely none of them so much as glanced up. "Seriously, you all suck." He got the hint that they were disinterested in him completely, and decided he wasn't going to wait around for them to respond. "Fine! Who needs you? I'll just go out by myself."

"I'll go next time," Michaela promised. She smiled at him, trying to assuage the guilt she felt for abandoning him on their first day in Crepsley's hometown. "We can go Christmas shopping. I saw a paper in the window of a shop the other day and apparently it's coming up soon."

"Fine." He stormed past them, somewhat surprised that they were actually going to let him go out into the city by himself. "Don't be surprised if I don't come back 'til late. I'm the king of snowmen."

"Be safe!" Ezra laughed when his comment caused Darren to slam the door behind him, even angrier than he already was. He turned to Michaela, a grin on his face. "Kids."

"Hey, Ezra, have you seen my-"

Michaela froze when she stepped out into the living room, stopping mid-sentence. Standing there with her hand delicately placed on Evra's arm was a little brown girl in pigtails who looked to be about fifteen. Her eyes went wide as saucers when she saw Michaela appear with wet hair in shorts and a tank top, and she quickly stopped touching Evra.

They stared at each other blankly before the younger girl broke the silence. "Hi!"

"Hi," Michaela said slowly. She glanced over at Darren, whose T-shirt and hair were drenched in melted snow, silently demanding who the strange girl in their apartment was.

"Mikey, this is my friend Debbie. Debbie, this is Michaela. She's my…" He trailed off, not prepared with a lie. He finally picked up with "...sister" just as Evra attempted to save him with "girlfriend."

The boys' eyes met in alarm, their mind short-circuiting as they searched for a way to explain their contradicting explanations. Michaela let out a chuckle and smiled softly at Debbie, stepping in to save the day. "What he meant to say is that I'm due to be his sister. I've been around so long we all forget sometimes that it isn't official. I'm Evra's girlfriend."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Debbie took a step back from Evra, bringing herself closer to Darren. "No wonder you gave me such an odd look. You must think me something terrible for having my hands all over your boyfriend! I just…" She smiled, trying to convey her apology. "His skin is so cool. I've never seen anything like it."

Michaela laughed, letting Debbie know that she wasn't angry at her in the slightest. "I know." She took a step forward so that she could intertwine her fingers with Evra's, resting her head on his shoulder and looking up so that she could meet his eyes. "I never get tired of it either. Which is actually why I came out. You were supposed to meet me in my room…"

"Right!" Evra pulled his hand out of hers so that he could wrap his arm around her waist. He grinned at Darren and raised his eyebrows. "If you two will excuse us."

Darren watched Evra lead Michaela to her room, a scowl on his face. "You guys are disgusting." He stared at the door as it swung shut, only tearing his eyes away when he heard Debbie speak up.

"They're so cute. Does she always travel with you guys?" When she caught Darren's nod she continued, "It's amazing that they can spend so much time together and still look at each other like shiny new toys. Do her parents mind her being away so much?"

"Not at all." Debbie stared at him, waiting for an explanation, and Darren bit his lip. He wracked his brain for a reasonable explanation that would explain why her parents weren't in the picture that at least somewhat aligned with her true past. "Her parents are really prejudiced. Bringing in someone of a different culture would be bad enough, but when they met Evra and saw that he was a snake-boy, they told Michaela that she couldn't see him anymore. She came over and used me as an excuse for a while, but they eventually found out.. Her parents said she couldn't live with them unless she broke up with him, so since she was eighteen by then, she's been traveling with us ever since."

"That's so tragic." Darren looked down in surprise when he felt Debbie's hand slip into his, squeezing it gently in order to convey that she was truly sorry about their hardships. "But so romantic. He's lucky to have someone like her, willing to give up everything to be with him."

"Yeah," Darren agreed uncomfortably. He didn't know why, but the idea that Michaela had left home to be with Evra rather than him was bothersome. His fingers closed around Debbie's as he shook off the sensation. "He is. Are you ready to go to the movie?"

"I'd love to." Debbie smiled at him and followed him out of the hotel room.

As soon as Michaela heard the door shut behind them, she stepped out of the bedroom and turned to face Evra. "Who was that?"

"Debbie."

"Well, no shit." Michaela walked over to the window, looking out to the square where Darren and Debbie were strolling through, hand in hand. She frowned as she added, "I meant, why haven't I heard about her until now? And why did he bring her over to meet you and freak out when she saw me?"

Evra shrugged at her in response. "They met last week, the day after he got mad at us for not going with him to play in the snow. He met her in some store and they've hung out pretty much every time he's gone out without us." He watched the way Michaela's eyes darted back to the window, watching them disappear in the crowd and turn out of the square beyond her field of vision. "Wait… do you…?"

"No. God no." She shook her head, shooting down the question that Evra had implied. "It's just weird. He wanted her to meet you, but freaked out when she met me. Did you see how uncomfortable he got? I just…"

"I'm sure it isn't like that," Evra reassured her. "I'll bet he was just worried your feelings would get hurt if you found out he was… spending time with someone else."

"Why?" She frowned, beginning to get heated. "I've always encouraged him to make new friends. Both of you. I mean, when you were both friends with that Sam kid-" She caught the way his eyes immediately darkened and quickly corrected herself. "Sorry. This is nothing like Sam. I'm just saying that I'm more than happy for him whenever he makes friends, not to mention that if he'd given us notice we could've come up with a better story for who I was."

"You don't want to be my girlfriend?" Evra feigned a pout, pretending to be offended in order to steer the conversation away from what was obviously a touchy subject. "I'm hurt. Especially after I let you come live with me. Very Romeo and Juliet. Very romantic."

Michaela rolled her eyes, refusing to give in and laugh at his antics. "The story is so old-fashioned. I feel like I'm in the 1950s." She paused before admitting, "Though for no forethought, it was pretty good. Even I was rooting for us."

"Me too, babe." He wrapped an arm around her waist in jest, grinning down at her suggestively.

She laughed and swatted his hand away, laughing all the while. She loved the way he was able to bring a grin to her face regardless of the situation. "Nice try, jackass."

Darren returned to the apartment at about ten that night, walking in quietly so as not to wake anybody up. He froze, however, when he saw two figures on the couch. They were illuminated only by the flashing lights of the television, but he was still able to make out the familiar forms of Michaela and Evra.

"Hey." When neither of them responded or even moved, he frowned at them. "Guys." Once again, they remained still in their respective positions. He flipped on the lights in an attempt to startle them awake.

Evra's head snapped up as soon as the lights came on, leaving Michaela's head isolated on his shoulder. She came to as well, slowly lifting her head up just far enough to be able to twist her neck to look at Darren. She had just enough time to murmur a simple "Hey" before drowsily nuzzling her head into its prior position.

"It's just me," Darren informed them. He was more than slightly uncomfortable with their close proximity, and the only explanation he could offer for it was that they were keeping up with their cover story. "I didn't bring Debbie back."

That caught Evra's interest. "Were you planning to?" He laughed at Darren's blank facial expression. "Props to you, man. Even if she is a little young."

"You guys are pigs," was Michaela's simple evaluation.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just thought you guys were- I mean-" He quickly grew flustered, unable to verbalise what he was trying to say. He'd assumed the only reason they'd been curled up together was in order to keep up the couple facade for Debbie's sake- but they hadn't even been expecting her. So why the hell were they so close? Darren decided against pursuing the questions he couldn't find the words for and instead changed the subject. "What are you guys watching?"

"Saturday Night Live." Evra glanced back at Darren to explain, "I've never seen it, so Michaela rented some old episodes for us to watch. Apparently, the Cirque has kept me from more than just girls. I have a new favourite show."

Michaela smiled softly, awake enough to listen but still too asleep to open her eyes. "I told you you'd like it."

"Says the girl who couldn't make it through half an episode," he shot back. He nudged her and added, "Why don't you go to bed? Dare can watch with me. I'm sure he'll be better company."

"Time for guy talk. Got it. Have fun perving it up." She forced herself to her feet and dropped a kiss on Evra's head. She rolled her eyes at his "Aw, shucks" and ruffled Darren's hair as she walked past.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Darren tore his eyes away from it to frown down at Evra. "What was that?" Before Ezra could even finish asking what Darren meant, he was cut off. "You guys aren't usually so…"

"Nothing happened, man." Ezra could tell what Darren was trying to get at, and cut in so that he wouldn't have to be so uncomfortable. "We talked for a little bit after you left and decided if you were out on a hot date we might as well go have fun without you. So we went out to town and grabbed a bite to eat, which was when she flipped a shit on me for not knowing SNL. She just passed out on my shoulder," Evra swore.

"Oh." Darren paused, considering the story. When he decided it sufficed, he nodded. "Okay. Sorry."

"It's not a problem." Darren said nothing further, and so Evra went on to say more. "Can I ask you a question, though?"

"Go for it!" Darren couldn't believe it had taken Evra so long to say anything. He'd expected to be bombarded with questions about his movie date with Debbie from the moment he stepped through the door.

"Why are you spending time with Debbie if you want to be with Michaela?" He saw the incoming denial on Darren's face and cut in, "Listen, she might be too naive to realize it, but I'm not. You aren't exactly suave."

"I like Debbie," Darren argued, immediately defensive. "She's fun. So why shouldn't I hang out with her?"

"I'm not saying you can't." Evra remained calm, hoping that in seeing how unemotional he was Darren would mimic the demeanour. "If she makes you happy, go for it. But you can't go on dates with her and then come back and get mad at me for spending time with Michaela."

"I didn't get mad, I was just–"

"Jealous. Believe me, I noticed." He saw how upset and flustered Darren was getting decided to drop the subject. "Just think about it, okay? And come watch Chris Farley do his fat kid thing."

Darren shook his head and told him, "I'm really not in the mood. I'd rather head to bed."

"It's only ten," Evra scolded. "Prime time for a creature of the night."

Darren let out a sigh before submitting and collapsing on the couch next to Evra. "Fine. Just don't expect me to be all cuddly with you, too."

"I wouldn't dream of it, buddy," Evra replied with a grin.

Darren hardly got through the opening credits when he felt his eyes beginning to close. He snapped them open what he thought was minutes later before finding that it was light out. He sat up and let out a yawn.

"Oh, you're up!" Michaela grinned at him from where she sat in the kitchen before looking back down at her magazine. "I've been out here so long, I almost thought you died."

There was a brief pause before Darren finally settled for a response. "Not quite." He rose and padded his way over to make himself a bowl of cereal. For whatever reason, he felt really uncomfortable with Michaela being there, even  
>though she was paying no attention to him whatsoever.<p>

All was quiet as he poured his cereal and then his milk. Suddenly, her voice cut through the silence. "Want to go get some ice cream after you finish your breakfast?"

There was a long pause while Darren debated how to answer. "Uh... Yeah, sure." He hesitated again before asking a hesitant, "Should I go get Evra?"

"Nope," Michaela replied, dismissing the notion. "The asshole stayed up till four watching SNL. He's going to be out for a while."

"Oh." Darren paused, debating whether to be elated that Evra was excluded from their tryst or nervous that he was going to spend some long-overdue alone time with Michaela. Finally, he decided that his fear was ridiculous; they'd been best friends for what felt like an eternity. Nothing was changed just because they'd each made new friends. "When do you want to go?"

"Well, it's ten," she said, glancing at the clock, "and Evra told me last night that you're seeing Debbie again around noon. So hurry up and finish so that you have enough time to come back and get ready for your date."

"Uh... okay," he said slowly. The way Michaela said it so casually, as though she had no qualms with the idea of him dating someone other than her, completely bothered him. Why was she so okay with it? Her lack of care forced him to add on an assertive, "And it's not a date."

Michaela smiled at him knowingly and gave him a smile that he knew was supposed to be comforting. "Darren, it's fine. You don't have to pretend like you two aren't an item. I think you guys are cute, even if she is a little young." She stood up and grabbed her jacket off of the counter, opening the door to the hallway immediately. "You ready?"

He nodded and followed her out the door. The whole time he trailed behind her, he heard her words echoing in his head. What did she mean, it was fine? And why did she think they were cute? Did it not bother her at all that he was seeing somebody else?

They only had to walk four blocks before they made it to the ice cream parlour. The man working the counter made a comment in regard to Michaela not being the same "broad" that Darren had brought last time; Darren's face flushed a bright red, but Michaela merely laughed. Once she moved aside to allow Darren to pay, the man whispered, "Personally, I think this one is an upgrade."

Darren scowled and continued walking. He and Michaela took a seat outside, but were only there for a moment when Michaela made a joke. "Darren Shan: Ladies' Man. I can see it now."

"Oh, my god." He shook his head, refusing to even momentarily entertain the idea. "No. No way."

"I dunno, Dare. Bringing two girls to the same ice cream shop?" She grinned and took an exaggerated lick of her ice cream cone. "That was ballsy."

He scowled. "Technically, you brought me."

"But you went along with it." When he didn't crack a smile, she frowned. She nudged him with her foot and said, "Okay, what's gotten into you? Things have been different between us ever since we got to this stupid town."

"No, they haven't."

Michaela scowled at him, irritation heating her blood. "Okay. Fine. Nothing's changed. You've always been this distant and uncomfortable around me."

He paused, debating what to say. He didn't think she'd noticed the changes in his behaviour. Finally, he decided to just make a joke of it and end the matter. "Glad we got that settled."

She scowled and stood up. "Glad I know you're not interested in fixing things." She dropped her ice cream into the nearest trash bin and began to storm off.

"Mikey!" He stood up and followed her, throwing his out as well. She got only three steps before he caught up to her. "Come on. Don't be like that."

"Listen." She turned to face him and held up a finger, adding one with every item she listed. "i don't care that you're not spending time with me. I don't care that you're dating some little girl you just met, or that you keep ditching me for her. I don't even fucking care that you wanted her to meet Evra and not me. What I care about is the fact that you keep acting like I'm a fucking stranger, and I am not in any way, shape, or form okay with that."

He paused. "Okay. I'm sorry." When she looked disgusted and turned back around, he got louder. "Wait! I'm not done." He waited for their gazes to lock onto each other's before talking. "I just assumed you were mad at me. So I guess I started treating you like you were."

"Well, I'm not. So can you stop?" When he nodded, her entire body relaxed and she smiled. "Okay. Good." She gestured to the garbage can and added, "Since we wasted perfectly good ice cream, we might as well go head back to the hotel."

He nodded and followed alongside her this time. Neither of them spoke until they got to the hotel. She entered first, but he stopped just as he entered the doorway. Once he'd shut it, he turned back to face her retreating figure. "Mikey?"

"Yeah?" She turned back around, and when she saw that he had stopped all the way back at the front door she backtracked so that she was standing directly in front of him. "What's up?"

"So since you aired out everything, and we're okay again, I figure it's my turn. Right?" He let out a shaky breath when he caught her nod of approval. He mustered every ounce of confidence in his body to slowly say, "Back at the Cirque. Before we left. You said if I started drinking you might let me kiss you." Her only response was to stare at him blankly, giving no indication that she understood what he was getting at. "I've been drinking." Still, he recieved nothing. "Can I?"

There was a long- drawn-out silence before she finally found a response that suited her. "Darren, you have a girlfriend."

"I know, but–"

"And you brought her here to meet me and Evra." She thought about what she'd said and quickly reevaluated her statement. "Well... Evra. I just happened to be here when she walked in."

"Mikey–"

"I'm not upset about it anymore. Don't bother apologizing." She hesitated to find her words before continuing., "Debbie seems like a nice girl. Incredibly innocent. As she should be for someone her age. Do you recognize how utterly wrong it would be to kiss someone else while you are dating her? It would be like stepping on a flower."

"But... I asked you a while ago. And you said yes."

"No, I said I'd think about it. And now you have a girlfriend."

"But..." He paused to let her words fully sink in. "So, you're saying no because of Debbie. Not because you don't want me to?"

"Darren–"

"No," he snapped immediately. She fell silent, and he continued. "Answer the question."

She stared at him blankly like she had when he first mentioned to idea of kissing her. Finally, after a little deliberation, she found a way to side-step the question. "If you kiss me I'll tell Debbie."

"That's not a no."

"I'll slap you," she insisted.

That was all she had time to say, because almost before she'd finished the short sentence Darren took a step forward and pressed his lips to hers. She instinctively rose onto her toes in order to better kiss him, but when she felt her lips part for him,, her mind returned to her. She ripped herself out of his grasp and smacked him, just as she'd promised to do and wavered, "You are such a fucking asshole." She turned on her heel and retreated to where she'd originally been headed: her bedroom.

That was as far as he got, because Darren took a step forward and pressed his  
>lips to hers. They kissed until Michaela's mind returned to her, at which point<br>she pulled her mouth from his and smacked him, just as she'd promised. "You are  
>such a fucking asshole," she wavered. She turned on her heel and retreated to<br>where she had originally been headed: her bedroom.

Darren stood there for a few seconds, wincing as she slammed her door. A few moments after hers had shut, Evra's opened, and he poked his head out. "What the hell was that?"

It took a few moments for Darren to even register the question. Once he had, he merely shook his head; he wasn't quite sure what to respond. "Uh, you might want to go check in on her. I have to go get ready for my date."

Evra gave Darren a long, steady look before nodding and walking towards Michaela's door. He knocked on it softly, and when he didn't recieve a response, he turned the knob and stepped inside. He walked in to see her standing with her hands balled up into fists, leaning both them and her head against the wall. "Michaela?"

She whirled around angrily, ready for combat, but when she saw that it was just Evra she let out a sigh. "Oh. Hey, Evra."

"Hey," he replied immediately. He took a step closer to her as he asked, "What's  
>going on?"<p>

"Nothing.". She caught the dubious look on his face and let out a sigh before collapsing onto her bed. "Okay, fine. Something."

"You know, I never would have guessed that?" He took a seat next to her on the bed and looked down to study her face. "So what is it?"

"Darren is an asshole." She saw that Evra was waiting for further elaboration, so she let out a sigh before explaining. "The son of a bitch kissed me."

Evra's brow furrowed. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Are you crazy?" she demanded. "He's dating Debbie, remember? The little girl who thinks we're the cutest couple ever? And I told him if he kissed me I'd tell her, but I'm supposed to be his sister-in-law, and even if I wasn't I couldn't do that to her, and–" She fell backwards so that she was laying across the bed. "Ugh!"

"I've gotta hand it to him– that was ballsy," Evra acknowledged. "I mean, he asked you and everything. Didn't even stop after you said you would tell Debbie." He saw the frustration on Michaela's face growing, and cut of that line of conversation by laying down next to her. "What'd you do?"

"I slapped him," she said simply, a small smile growing on her face. "Asshole." Her face crashed as she added, "I would feel bad about it, but I fucking warned him about that too. At least that threat I could follow through on."

"He really is ballsy," Evra commented. There was a sense of admiration in his voice as he demanded, "Where did our wimpy Darren go?"

"He's not ballsy, he's an asshole!" She glared at Evra and ordered, "Get past that fact that he kissed me for two seconds and look at the fact that he cheated on his girlfriend. It wasn't that he got caught up in the moment or anything. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was told not to and he still did it."

"Okay, well, yeah," Evra finally admitted, "That was a dick move. But it's not like it was just some random girl, you know? He won't admit it but he's had a crush on you for the longest time. And before you came to the Cirque I had to hear him whine about you 24/7."

"But I'm still going to be here when we leave this city," she argued. "And we sure as shit aren't bringing Debbie with us when we go. And furthermore, if he's so head over heels for me, why did he get involved with another girl? And why did he kiss me now?"

Before Evra had the chance to say anything, the doorbell rang. The water in the shower was on, symbolizing that Darren had not yet finished getting ready for Debbie's arrival. Michaela and Evra shared a look before they both got up, and Michaela answered the door.

"Hi!" Debbie exclaimed with a grin. "I'm here to pick up Darren? He was supposed to meet me at my house ten minutes ago but he didn't show. A boy in the hallway said that he just saw you and Darren get home, though, so I guess he's just running late."

"He's in the shower," Michaela said slowly, "so he should be out soon. You can wait for him inside if you'd like." She turned around and looked at Evra, who was laying on the couch.

He pulled himself into a sitting position slowly, as though he'd been laying there a long time and couldn't bear to leave his spot. "Hey, Debbie."

"Hi!" she chirped. She followed Michaela into the room, who sat casually on top of Evra's lap. Debbie opted for a seat on the opposite end of the couch, giving the couple enough room for all of the antics Darren had warned her they pulled. "How's it going?"

"Pretty well," Evra said with a smile. His arm had found its way around Michaela'a waist, and he could tell from the way Debbie was looking at them that they were doing the whole 'couple' thing right. "I mean, this one has been making reptilian jokes all day, but other than that..."

"Hey! Some of them are pretty funny," Michaela defended herself. A grin broke  
>out on her face as she managed to actually think of one on the spot. "Okay, okay, here's one. What do you call a snake that works for the government?" She allowed a pause for them to consider the joke. "A civil serpent." When nobody laughed, she held up a hand and said, "Okay. Fine. I have a better one. What do you get when you cross a pastry and a snake?" She glanced around, grinning. "A pie-thon."<p>

That joke evoked a smile from Debbie. "That one was actually kind of cute."

"Don't encourage her!" Evra exclaimed, half-sincere in his mortification.

"Do you know what happens after snakes fight?" Michaela chided Evra, tapping a finger against his nose. "They hiss and make up." Debbie smiled and watched as Michaela brought her forehead against Evra's, bringing her lips closer to his as he did so. She was a mere centimeter from actually kissing him when she let out a hiss in his face and turned her attention back to Debbie as though nothing had happened. "So, what are you and Darren doing on your date?"

"Oh, we're just going Christmas shopping," she replied simply. "Nothing fancy."

"You're going Christmas shopping together?" Michaela's face dropped, remembering that Darren and she had made plans to go Christmas shopping together on their first day in the city.

Debbie nodded her head in agreement. "We met when he was in a store looking for a gift for Evra and I was there searching for mittens. We obviously got caught up so he never actually picked anything, so we're going to the store and then to the movies again."

"Two movies? That's how Michaela and I got started," Evra said with a warning tone to his voice. "Be careful, or you might accidentally fall in love with him."

She smiled shyly and hung her head, blushing madly at the floor. "I'm much too young for that sort of thing. We're just... fond of each other, is all."

Michaela forced herself to smile at the naive girl and said, "Well, hopefully we stick around a while so that you guys can spend more time together."

"I hope so, too," she agreed. After a moment, she looked up at them and asked, "Hey, what are you guys doing for Christmas? I was going to ask Darren to invite you all to celebrate with my family while we were out, but since I'm here with you now and it's not too far it seems as good a time as ever."

"We'll have to check with the old man," Evra said slowly, "but being as I didn't even know when Christmas was, I think it's safe to say we're free."

"You know how antisocial Lart– I mean, your dad is," Michaela said. "I don't know that he'd want to go, and that's assuming he doesn't have work that night."

"I still think it's odd that you call my father by his first name," Evra murmured.

"Yet another thing you have to get used to if we're going to spend the rest of our lives together," Michaela responded. "Speaking of which, you should get me a ring for Christmas! That would be so cute."

"With what money?" Evra made a face in response to her grandiose suggestion. "Get your head out of the clouds and enjoy the fact that we're fortunate enough to have each other at all. Things could have gone a lot differently for us and we have to count our blessings where they lie."

"That's adorable." Debbie grinned at the two of them and said, "I hope to find a love as strong as yours one day."

"Hopefully the circumstances are a little different," Michaela answered with a small smile, "but I hope you find something all your own. Something that makes you happy, even if you have to fight for it."

Debbie opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment Darren emerged, dripping hair and all. He froze when he saw Michaela on Evra's lap, conversing with Debbie. Debbie's face instantly lit up when she saw him, causing Michaela's to fall. "Hey!"

Michaela twisted around to glare at Darren as a nervous smile came upon his face. "Hey," he said slowly. "Are you, uh–" His eyes flitted between the two girls before settling on Debbie. "Are you ready to go?"

"Why don't we invite Evra and Michaela with us?" She at grinned at Michaela and corrected her offer. "If you guys would like, of course. I'd love to get to know you both better."

"Oh, no, we couldn't impose," Evra answered for the both of them. He sent a knowing look at Darren and added, "You and Darren go have fun. We have to leave for our dinner reservations soon, anyway."

"Oh." Disappointment evident in her voice, and Debbie frowned. After only a moment her face picked up and she was once again chipper. "Have fun on your date, though! I'm glad you guys are getting out to do something. I'm sorry if I seem rude for asking, but won't some people..."

"Yes." Michaela smiled in order to reassure Debbie that her inquiry hadn't been the least bit offensive. "And it isn't rude. I know you're only looking out for us. Evra always has to bundle up when we go places, to cover at least most of his scales, which is why we don't do it often." Michaela twirled the hem of Evra's shirt around her finger and added a sultry, "But I always make up for it later, don't I?"

The grin that came over Evra's face was interpreted by Debbie as a combination of even love and lust, though in all honesty it was Evra reigning in his laughter. "Is today a special occasion?" Debbie asked mildly.

"It's our anniversary. Our original one, not the anniversary of when we got back together. Actually, when you think about it…" He glanced at Michaela, eyebrows raised. "We probably have a lot of anniversaries, huh? With all the breaking up we had to do?"

"Don't think about it." Michaela shuddered at the implication of his words. "We are not celebrating any of  
>them. Especially not the way you have in mind. We don't need any snake babies running around here, do we, Darren?"<p>

"No, we don't." The bitterness in Darren's voice surprised even himself. When everyone turned to look at him in unison, he let out a weak laugh to cover up his instinctive disgust. "Please! You two are so irresponsible. Do you know who would wind up having to take care of them?"

"My loving brother-in-law?" Michaela guessed with a grin. Her eyes made their way over to the clock as she added, "...who is going to miss his movie if he doesn't skedaddle with this pretty young thing?"

"You're so sweet," Debbie told her with a grin as she stood. "Well, I hope you have a lovely evening on your date and hopefully I'll see you soon!"

"Toodles!" Evra agreed as they walked out the door.

Michaela flipped off Darren's retreating figure until the door shut. Once it had, she turned back to cock an eyebrow at Ezra. "Toodles?"

Evra shrugged. " I thought it was cute."

Michaela slid from his lap onto the couch and closed her eyes. "What's cute is Debbie. What's not cute is her asshole boyfriend."

"On the bright side, I have zero competition," Evra agreed with a grin.

"Shut up," came Michaela'a easy reply. Her brow furrowed. "I can't believe Christmas is next week."

"I can't believe you guys are freaking out over some holiday." He grinned and added a joking, "Must be a human thing."

"You're human." And to her it was true. His skin composition, Larten's age, and Darren's blood made them no less human in her eyes than she was. "Are you honestly telling me you don't celebrate Christmas?"

"Never have I ever." He pouted when she gaped. "Don't look so surprised. I grew up in a cage, remember?"

"I know, but I thought maybe Mr. Tall..." She frowned and shook her head. "How is it that you're nineteen and this is your virgin Christmas?"

"I'm not as promiscuous as you," he joked, but only to get her off he subject of his childhood. He played it off with jest for the most part, but he still found himself getting emotional whenever the subject of his life prior to Mr. Tall came up in conversation.

"We'll change that," she decided.

"No." He shrugged in reply to her incredulous gaze, anticipating her question before it escaped her lips. "It's dumb. We all spend money on presents that the other may or may not even like? It's dumb. Count me out."

Michaela frowned, but did not argue his logic. There was no way to explain the magic of the holiday to someone who had never experienced it, no way to force him to embrace it. "Fine." She grinned. "But I'm still getting you a gift."

"But then I'll feel bad for not getting you one!"

"That's your fault." She grinned and poked him in the stomach., "I'm not letting you drag me into your Scrooge ways."

"You're ruthless," he told her. He glanced out the window to pry his eyes away from her and give him an excuse to change the subject from yet another one he was uncomfortable with. "So— what are we doing on our super-cute anniversary date?"

"SNL?"

Evra grinned. "You're on."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Since the next chapter is already written and just needs to be revised, you can expect the next Steve chapter to be up relatively soon. :)**


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